


Tales from the Eisner Household

by acedtheblondetest



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses, Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Basically it’s just f!Byleth/all the ladies eventually, F/F, I guess???, Maids AU, Sherlock Holmes AU, meets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 15:27:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 28,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21656182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acedtheblondetest/pseuds/acedtheblondetest
Summary: Byleth Eisner is a lady. While her father, General Jeralt Eisner, is away on duty his only daughter is left in their capital home. Did he really expect someone like her to not get into any trouble?Solve crimes, kiss all the girls - with a few tasteful maid uniforms along the way.
Relationships: F!Byleth/Mercedes, Mercedes von Martritz/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 17
Kudos: 54





	1. Into the Wisteria Curtain

**Author's Note:**

> As is my usual modus operandi this started out as a joke when I first saw the maid/butler outfit DLC. ‘I’ll just write silly one shots of Lady f!Byleth with all of the girls as her maids,’ I thought. ‘It’ll be a play on the harem trope. No need for a real plot at all,’ I thought.
> 
> Like an idiot.

Byleth Eisner was a lady. While her father Jeralt Eisner had not been born to the nobility he made enough of a name for himself in the military to marry a woman of decent enough position within society, Byleth’s mother. Unfortunately she died shortly after giving birth. Due to the nature of his rank Jeralt traveled often and took his daughter with him the entire way. Growing a personality amongst the ranks of soldiers was a task for a little girl, one that left her quiet and withdrawn in the way of outwardly presented emotions.

Somehow she grew up able to be, or learned to do so, entirely blank faced through the scolding of her general father. She was able to do this following making a complete mess of the kitchens in the name of experimentation. She had only been seven in this particular instance and yet already could face down her father better than most of his lieutenants. Granted the experimentation had been done alongside her enlistment with a few of the younger men under his command, but that was neither here nor there.

Even when they would be stationed in towns where she could mingle with other children her age, notably other young girls, Byleth did not make lasting friendships. Something about her was always too adult, too boring. If she had a shilling for every time someone commented on the emptiness of her eyes she may have a fortune of her own to rival her father’s. By the end of scheduled play dates she would always be found reading in a corner or training with some found stick in the yard.

“What was it this time, kid?” Jeralt would ask, simply kneeling beside his daughter as she continued copying drills she had seen him do with his own troops.

“They wanted to play with dolls.”

The father picked at the daughter’s hair to pull out a fallen leaf that had snagged in the dark strands. The color and texture of her hair, like most things about her look, were of her mother and nothing of him. “I thought you liked dolls. You have two at home.”

Still Byleth would not meet his gaze, repeating her motions with her acquired stick-sword. “All they want to do with their dolls is brush their hair and pretend to be their mothers, not act out any interesting plots with them.”

And Jeralt would sigh because he knew the issue was largely that Byleth seemed to have a broader imagination, or perhaps simply a more advanced one, than most little girls… but that was not the whole of the issue. It was not only that she had watched her father practice strategies with models across broad battlefield tables, something he was not above admitting appeared very similar to the playing of dolls. No… Byleth also knew not what a mother was, much less how to pretend to be one.

Like this Byleth’s entrance into ‘proper society’ was delayed until Jeralt Eisner could return home to the Kingdom’s soil. But by then it was too late. Byleth was polite enough to make conversation, smart enough to know all of the proper topics, and a quick enough study to catch up on all of the current fashions… but she could not make any friends. Jeralt did not expect nor much want for there to be offers of marriage, but he would have liked for his daughter to find some sort of social circle where she could belong.

Late in the evening when she told him goodnight he would stroke her hair and say, “if I get called back to the front, I will have to leave you here. I would feel better if you had people around you for that.”

“Maybe I am simply not meant to have close friends, father. I have come to accept that this may be the case,” Byleth told him once. For being a battle hardened soldier, the pained look he gave her for such words… she never uttered anything like it again. Even when it did come to pass that he received orders to again visit the battlefield, leaving his only daughter in their newly purchased capital home. As heartless as her less than emotive face made her appear to the general public Byleth did not have the heart to be anything but supportive and loving towards her father in his departure, giving him many assurances that she would be perfectly fine in his absence.

Shortly after Jeralt had left for the warfront, Byleth found some thick blankets and children’s coats in the attic of their capital home. When he was around Jeralt endeavored to get Byleth out of the house too regularly for her to indulge in the thorough learning of a location as she was often want to do. He cited that it made her too sluggish for too long, too obsessive of small details that he feared she would become lost in them. But it was only that Byleth liked to understand a thing she knew would be a part of her life for a long time - all of it’s nooks and crannies.

This is how she came upon the discarded - forgotten? - items in the attic. Probably left by the former tenants she decided, but she had heard from the household staff that all of their children were grown and the couple were moving to live out their days in their quieter country home. This meant they would have no need for these children sized coats.

When she asked the housemaid if she knew what churches were in most need of items for the poor she had said she would take the items there herself, but Byleth had simply shaken her head. If she could simply tell her the address Byleth could take them. Being so new to the city Byleth thought any chance to learn her way around was a chance to be taken and relished. Besides, she could use the exercise after staying in the house for an entire week of exploring after Jeralt had gone.

It was there that she first saw Mercedes. In a small back vestry, assisting a nun in sorting donated goods. Byleth at once wondered at this girl that fought the current norm of after a certain age wearing one’s hair pinned up rather than about the shoulders. Mercedes wore her hair long and pulled loosely over one shoulder to be tied with a simple ribbon. So thick and gold, it looked soft to the touch. Had Byleth thought she was young enough to get away with it she would have reached out to do so - something she had in fact done with women when she was a child. She so loved beautiful and soft hair. 

“Oh, do you have things to donate as well?” The girl asked when she noticed Byleth standing in the open doorway, a mishmash of thick cloth in her arms. Her voice was so high and serene. Was that how angels spoke? Byleth imagined it to be so. Even at that moment she knew that forevermore when she heard the phrase ‘the voice of an angel’ the one that rang in her head would be that of Mercedes.

When she once more had hold of her faculties Byleth nodded and fully stepped into the room. “Yes, my father and I recently moved into a house. The previous tenants left these behind and have no need of them. I thought they appeared to be in good enough shape but - I am not the best judge.” She said as she presented them out to the nun.

First a dark coat was held up by one of the nun’s hands, and then a lighter raincoat in the other. “I know just the family that could use these for their children,” the elderly woman smiled warmly. “Thank you so much for your generosity, madam.”

“Not at all,” Byleth responded automatically, a habit of etiquette that trailed off as she surveyed the table they were using. “Are you sorting them by level of wear and then by type?”

“Yes indeed-y we are,” Mercedes answered, her words melted into a soft giggle like butter into a warm biscuit. “How observant you are.” The way in which she wore her hair the only deviance at the time, Byleth noted that the blonde had a white softly front-ruffled blouse and dark brown skirt. Did she not worry about staining the pristine white as most ladies did?

“I have been told as much from time to time.” Byleth gave a small and hopeful hum. “May I be of some assistance? I will try not to get in your way.”

Briefly Byleth thought she had worded it wrong or worn an extremely ill-fitted expression for such a request. Mercedes had looked up to stare at her with a look of mild - shock? Disapproval? Her mouth was slightly open and her eyebrows raised but not so much as to appear in utter disbelief. Before Byleth could apologize and take her leave, however, the woman was clapping her hands together and breaking out into a large smile. “That would be wonderful! Let us introduce ourselves so we can be proper friends.”

Again Byleth thought of baked goods in Mercedes presence. This time of rising dough in an oven, opening up and folding out inside her own chest under the sheer warmth of that smile. “My name is Byleth Eisner.”

“I am Mercedes Ferguson.” When Byleth reached out her hand Mercedes held it in both of hers. “And now we are proper friends.”

The nun cleared her throat and therein made Mercedes step back. The younger woman held a hand over her mouth, her face falling into an apologetic expression. “Oh, Mother Hill, I am so sorry. I seemed to have forgotten you are here.”

“It is fine. Young people can tend to do that when they get caught amongst themselves,” Mother Hill said with a simple shake of her head and laugh. “Now then, Miss Eisner, I will show you how we decide the usefulness of a garment before handing it out to the poor…”

Mother Hill was kind enough to make tea in the small kitchen of the rectory behind the church for the two ladies, as thanks for their assistance. While the kettle was being put on Mercedes offered to show Byleth around the church. It was a small of a smaller community variety, holding a cozier feeling than that of the near dauntingly soaring cathedrals that Byleth had always perceived to be more along the lines of tourist attractions than places of worship.

“I do love the quiet of a church in between services. The light making colorful shapes on the floor from the stained glass windows. The serenity of the lit candles.” As Mercedes spoke Byleth watched her face. Her eyes looked so far away as she spoke of the emotions she felt inside churches. While Byleth had never spent any considerable amount of time within the walls of a house of religion, likely because her father was not himself a religious man, within this homey chapel she felt she could understand a portion of the sentiment Mercedes spoke of.

“Are you going to enter the service yourself?” Byleth asked following some time of companionable silence and contemplation.

“At one time I thought I would,” Mercedes’ eyes came back to the here and now. In a sad, regretful sort of way.

When Byleth was beginning to ask what had changed, however, Mother Hill was calling to them that the tea was ready. The topic did not come up again in that meeting. Instead the three women sat around the small nook of a table and talked about the weather, local events, places Byleth should see as a newcomer not only to the capital but practically the Kingdom, considering she had been gone since early childhood. In not so subtly offering to take Mercedes along as her guide Byleth had only received light laughter and vague responses. But she did tell Byleth that she was often at the church helping out on Wednesday afternoons.

“Have you heard of the Ferguson family?” Byleth asked the kitchen maid that evening, sitting in the kitchen over a cup of tea. Most of the staff had already given up on expecting the lady of the house to follow proper household etiquette such as taking her tea in the parlor. For her week of taking measurements to all of the rooms had also included entering the kitchen, the panty, and asking after anything she came across and did not recognize with… the bare faced curiosity of a child. One that did not at all include a feeling of superiority as most ladies of rank had towards their servants.

Briefly Jenny, the kitchen maid, thought on the question. She had been washing the pots and pans used for cooking the houses dinner, turning round to make small thoughtless shapes in the air with a wooden spoon. “I don’t believe I have, although it does sound familiar, you’d be best to ask the cook ma’am.” Jenny gesture the spoon in Byleth’s direction as she came to an answer for her. “She loves to read the society papers and knows all about them high class families.”

The cook would prove a valuable resource in Byleth’s navigating the capital then. She arose early the next morning to question her over breakfast. The woman was not relish sharing her knowledge, Byleth would say, not in the same way a schoolgirl took any chance to showcase what she understood and her classmates did not. Rather, Mrs. Foster stated it plainly. “Ferguson isn’t quite a noble family, miss,” Mrs. Foster said, kneading the dough for lunchtime rolls, “but the name was familiar to Jenny ‘cause he’s a merchant. He started out going round to the fancy houses sellin’ wares, until he made enough to buy himself a storefront. I ‘ad ‘eard he’d adopted a daughter, this Miss Mercedes must be ‘er.”

Byleth’s brows came together. “Adopted?”

Mrs. Foster only shrugged. The fact that Byleth ate her breakfast at the same flour dusted table on which the cook worked added to the less pedantically proper way Mrs. Foster spoke to her - something that Byleth quite appreciated. “He ain’t never married from what I hear, so mayhaps he was lonely.”

“But why a daughter then, as a single man?” No one could answer Byleth’s question. Not Mrs. Foster, not Mr. Lindel the butler. For the entire week that followed Byleth attempted to discern what reasons there could be for someone to make such a decision. Most of those she came up with were, unfortunately for her new friend Mercedes, unscrupulous in nature.

One of the more plausible possibilities was that Mercedes had wealth he stood to control as her male guardian. He could be a less successful brother or nephew of the family Mercedes was from that had taken her in once she was orphaned. If he was smart enough with his finances to rise from a traveling salesman to the owner of a store then perhaps he would not completely waste her inheritance on bad investments or frivolous spending. This, however, did not take the timeline into consideration. Perhaps he had adopted her and then used her wealth, rather than his own, to purchase his store.

The way that Mercedes had not given her a definitive yes or no answer to Byleth’s requests to be her guide through the capital did not bode well for this scenario. The girl waited long for Wednesday to come, unsure of how to explain her trepidation even to herself. Was it simply her long standing personal trait of extreme curiosity? Was it because she was so taken by Mercedes voice and manner of being?

“You came!” Mercedes exclaimed joyfully when Byleth entered the church the following week.

“Are there more clothes to sort?” Byleth asked in reaching the blonde, who had been bent checking over the cushion in one of the pews.

“No, but there are other ways we may help and visit at the same time.” Mercedes assured her.

And this was how the young miss Byleth Eisner found herself polishing the candlesticks, chalices, and other fine silver wares of the church right alongside Mercedes. Again they were seated at the table of the small vestry, it’s surface covered over with all of the items that needed polishing. Byleth told herself to pay extra mind complimenting the hard work her own house servants did, to keep her father’s house and it’s goods so clean. That she continued to bother them with questions and conversation that most staff did not have to contend with, at least not to the same volume, only extended their time.

“I don’t suppose this is something you are used to doing,” Mercedes said after instructing Byleth for the fourth time that she had missed some of the smaller nooks within the candlesticks.

“How could you tell?” Byleth hummed.

At first the blonde did not respond. “You know, when you first appeared I did not much trust you to show up again today, even after helping us with the clothes and blankets.” Mercedes gave in explanation as she worked steadily at a chalice’s intricate base. “You have the fine clothes and posture of a young lady. Many like you try to be charitable for means of social bragging, but after they see it involves more than a little work they do not return. Even still - here you are, not complaining a mite even when I correct you.”

“My hands are not quite as delicate as most girl’s in similar positions to mine,” Byleth said, briefly pausing in her own movements to peer at her palms. The skin was not as soft and unblemished as was proper for a young lady. At the heels of her palm and in her fingers there were marks of callouses from wielding training blades and heavy enough outside exploration. Climbing up trees, hopping over fences, and the like. “I imagine if they were they would be beginning to ache soon. This is deceptively difficult work. The muscle and fine skills required to properly polish were unexpected for me. But - I enjoy learning new skills.”

“As do I,” Mercedes agreed with a smile, “although I do not often learn them quickly or without incident. I can be quite a klutz.”

Byleth smiled back, giving her an amused sort of expression. “Is that so?”

“Do not appear so expectant to see it for yourself,” Mercedes chided with an only partly dramatic sigh. “I would like to seem competent in the eyes of my new friend for at least a while.”

“I cannot imagine many ways for you to fall from my graces, Miss Mercedes.” Byleth said. Her smile had melted into something softer. Something her father and only a few close, kind individuals in her youth may have seen. When Mercedes looked up to meet her gaze, seeing this smile that had delivered such affectionate words - her cheeks flushed a shade or two darker.

Byleth allowed the silence for a time before breaking it to ask, “would you like to visit a tea shop with me after this? I do believe I saw one not far from here on my way.”

“Ah-“ Almost imperceptively Mercedes’ eyes flicked to the clock on the wall opposite them. “I am afraid not, I do apologize. Maybe next time.”

Maybe next time became one of the more common phrases Byleth heard from Mercedes’ lips. For a month of Wednesdays they would do some chores around the church or the grounds, such as clearing the cemetery of leaves and twigs, sweeping the cobwebs from the chapel’s ceiling. Every time Byleth would suggest some other outing, either later in the week or following their church duties. Once she even asked if they could meet for lunch before walking to the church together the following week, but that notion too had been rejected. Mercedes would never give an actual reason as to why. While Byleth was more than used to rejection, the continued genuine warmth from Mercedes made her believe it was not out of any malice.

“You really ought to take better care of yourself Byleth,” Mercedes said one Wednesday. It had been the fifth time Byleth had yawned since they began clearing the small garden of the church. Or perhaps the better word would be reprimanded - for after the lesson in polishing this was the most sternly Mercedes had ever spoken to Byleth. “You should get better sleep. What were you doing up so late?”

Another sleepy yawn. Byleth did not care for the grave error such an action was in the company of others, especially not when said company was Mercedes. “Reading.”

“Whatever were you reading so long that you lost so much sleep?”

“Some research on poisons and their varying uses as well as symptoms.” Of a simple reply, as if she were stating the weather.

At that Mercedes set aside her small gardening shovel and gave Byleth her full attention. “And why in the world would you need to read something like that?”

“One can never know,” Byleth hummed, placing another pulled weed in the growing pile beside her. “I like to know a great many things. It may come in handy one way or another.”

It did not appear Mercedes was convinced. “Knowing poisons?”

Clear blue eyes squinted in search of the words to explain. Byleth had always been among people that either already knew of her eccentricities - such as her father - or those that thought them too strange to ask for any reason behind them. “My father is a captain in the military. I spent much of my childhood in places where using the wrong fork at dinner and causing hurtful gossip about myself was not my most frequent, nor most catastrophic worry. There were poisonous plants and venomous snakes, dangerous wild animals, or even tamed ones that could turn if not treated or read properly. I suppose growing up in such a manner… I learned it beneficial to always be investigating the world around me. What could hurt me - what could heal me.”

“Well before you finish pulling that very good and purposefully planted flower that will do you no harm at all,” Mercedes sighed, reaching her hand out to rest it on Byleth’s outstretched wrist ready to rid the soil of a tulip, “why don’t you come over here with me.”

Some could say that Byleth gave little resistance to the tug at her wrist because she was too tired. Some would only be half right. The rest of it simply was that Byleth felt little need to resist. Mercedes’ touch was so featherlight and warm on her skin it was as if any amount of force against it would break this newborn moment. Something that could turn incandescently beautiful if it was allowed to live out it’s youth.

Away they walked to a quiet corner of the garden they had already thoroughly cleaned. There was a small opening beneath the trails of soft purple wisteria that Mercedes bent down into and sat herself down. Neatly she spread out her broad tan skirt. Once satisfied she patted the spot beside her for Byleth to sit. It appeared as if the space would be a bit cramped with the both of them but Byleth felt little reason to object. She tipped her head down, gingerly pushing aside the dainty purple curtain whilst she crouched to begin settling herself beside Mercedes. Barely a moment after she had sat herself down Mercedes was tugging on her bicep to throw off her gravity, sending Byleth falling to her side until her fall was pillowed by her friend’s lap.

“We did enough work, we have time for a quick nap.” Mercedes said as the world righted itself, moving about as it was following Byleth’s sudden shift. The easy passing of Mercedes’ fingers through her hair made her eyes grow heavy that much sooner. And the way that Mercedes began to hum in that voice of hers, an aimless sort of tune… Despite the time of year Byleth realized she felt exceedingly warm and cozy in this moment with her head resting in Mercedes lap. Like this little niche created by the wisteria was a tiny cottage home for them with a lit fireplace and warm cocoa on a lazy winter’s night. Byleth drifted off dreaming of just such scenes with Mercedes.

When Byleth arrived home after that reverie of an afternoon with her friend she decided enough was enough. Had there been any indications that Mercedes truly did not want to spend time with Byleth outside of the church - Byleth would have left it at that and discontinued her invitations that she was well aware became rude and invasive when extended despite multiple refusals. But so many things did not add up. Byleth wanted to know if the reason for Mercedes’ strange behavior surrounding her schedule or being in each other’s company elsewhere were at all due to a less than hospitable home life for her friend. If Mercedes reasons were of her own will - then Byleth would accept it.

It was a long shot, she knew it well, but finally she resorted to simply skimming through the entirety of the most recent copy of Burke’s Peerage for any and all Mercedes that could be around the right age. Just as Mercedes had perceived in Byleth a young lady of higher financial standing, Byleth too found Mercedes to hold a few traits that were indicative of being taught the etiquette of a lady. Her straight backed posture, the care she took for her hair. This lended to the possibility that she was from the nobility, if even a lower branch.

That was where Byleth received the answer she was looking for.

“You have had many names, Mercedes.” Byleth said in ‘greeting’ when she came upon said woman replacing offering candles that following Wednesday.

Mercedes shrieked, one of the candles loudly ‘plonk’-ing back down in the glass votive holder. “B-Byleth?” She said as she as she turned to see whom had spoken with a hand to her chest in shock.

“My apologies,” Byleth bowed her head, “I tried to call out to you from the door but you did not hear.”

“Ah-I see. I can be a bit absentminded…” Mercedes trailed off in a nervous sort of laugh, tucking some hair behind her ear. A nervous gesture that allowed her to look away. “You sure don’t know how to give up. Finding out about me, I mean.”

“It was not out of a disregard for your wishes, I assure you,” Byleth insisted. “I’ve been told I’m too curious for my own good. And I was… worried for you, when you would not tell me any way to meet you other than here, nor why.”

Now Mercedes turned her eyes on Byleth again. Her head tilted to the side just so as her mouth broke into a more sincere smile. “That is sweet of you to say.”

“All I learned is that you were born to the Martritz family, and with the death of your father your mother was remarried to Baron Bartels. Your adoption by Johnathan Ferguson was not in Burke’s Peerage.” Byleth said, trying her best to convey genuine warmth towards this girl, nothing indicative of an egregious violation of Mercedes privacy or autonomy. Nor of the disgust Mercedes now so clearly expected from those that knew of her past. And then lastly, “at least not the copy in my home, anyway.”

“And that I have inherited a Crest,” Mercedes added. Again she looked away, her eyes sad. She moved to sit in the nearest pew and cast her eyes up at one of the stained glass windows. “So much just in one book.”

“But not enough to make any meaningful judgement of someone’s character,” Byleth said, softly, intentionally, in her sitting beside Mercedes.

Finally she turned to look at Byleth. Mercedes eyes were blue but in such a different way to Byleth’s own. If Byleth’s were glass marbles, clear right down to the center of her being, then Mercedes were two ponds. Pools full of a depth she doubted most people recognized, much less understood. “I do not reject your invitations out of any malice towards you, I truly hope you know that.”

It was unlike her, but Byleth did not even recognize this in herself as she reached to hold Mercedes hand and stare into her eyes. “Has he harmed you in any way?”

Even in this situation Mercedes had to laugh, although it was a strange sort of sound. Unexpected. “Not in the ways you are thinking, I assure you. He just… wants to find me a match among the nobility, now that my Crest is not tied to any major line.”

Byleth nodded for her to continue. “But that is not what you want.”

And Mercedes shook her head, looking out with her soft gaze around the church while still clutching Byleth’s hand in turn. “I want to be of the church. After my mother’s second husband was… not so kind to us, we fled to a country church for refuge. They took care of us, warmed and loved us in our time of need. I want to do that for others. The people I saw there, in far worse situations than our own…” Another shake of her head, disallowing herself from growing too full of emotion.

The daughter of a general and a late lady of standing but a lady of standing all the same, Byleth could hold little understanding of being in such a position. Most girls her age would likely be able to sympathize with being pushed to marry for a place in society - but Byleth had always been spoiled by her father in this and many regards. “Have you told him as much? Your father.”

The look Mercedes gave her, a forlorn smile that did not reach her kind and compassionate eyes, said enough. What would it matter if she had? “He does not know I come here so often. He would likely put a stop to it if he did - he thinks I spend time at tea houses or painting in the park.”

“I apologize for putting you in the position of having to reject me so, and for wantonly ignoring said rejections,” Byleth said after a long moment of reflection. “I will stop trying to invite you out. If we cannot be friends anywhere but here, then let it be so, rather than not friends at all.”

A sigh passed through Byleth’s lips and her eyes became downcast before she continued. Not out of an inability to admit her truths or even shame over them, but out of understanding how they appeared as flaws in the eyes of others. “I am not the most adept at following all of the proper social norms, nor do I particularly enjoy the situations in which they are wholly necessary, so it has always been… difficult for me to make close friends. I enjoy your company too much to put a stop to it for a reason such as where I must keep it.”

The relief that washed over Mercedes’ face… the way that it made Byleth’s heart beat so rapidly in her chest was close, but only barely, to the way it sped up to feel akin to that of a hummingbird’s wings when Mercedes hugged her gratefully. There was even the hint of thankful tears in those beautiful eyes when Mercedes bade Byleth goodbye. Mercedes was not upset by Byleth’s research into her past, rather she was relieved that Byleth would neither end their friendship nor use her secret in any harmful gossip.

For a brief time Byleth believed the matter settled even if it was not in a manner she would have liked the best. She understood enough of the capital’s society to know that she could not simply demand to meet this man and speak her perceived sense into him. Nor was that likely something Mercedes would want. However, the relief over the conclusions was just that. Brief. The following Wednesday morning, before Byleth could make her way to the church, she received a letter.

‘_Dear Miss Eisner,_

_In most cases I would bring this matter up with your father, but as I have been made aware he is out of the country in his duties, I am forced to communicate with you in his stead. It has been brought to my attention that my daughter Mercedes has been spending her valuable time at a local church. While I have always commended her charitable nature, I have made it clear that what spare time she has should be spent in pursuits that more suitably prepare her to be wed._

_In my being informed of her whereabouts this Wednesday I also learned of your presence there and consequent friendship with my daughter. Having not been properly introduced by a mutual acquaintance that could vouch for your character I would be remiss to not state that I did not at first condone this friendship. It should be noted that the introduction via a nun of the church is not the worst case scenario and would not be wholly damaging to my daughter’s reputation, but was still not the proper way for things to have been done. However in making inquiries about your family myself I have reached a decision that, should you agree to partake, will be to the benefit of all parties._

_You may continue your relationship with my daughter, some of your time of which together may be spent at the church. However for this to occur you must agree to also be social with her at public events. Connections that you have within society, whether by your father’s rank or your late mother’s, will be called upon for invitations to events that you will attend with my daughter. _

_The goal shall continue to be finding a proper suitor for Mercedes - as it should be for any girl of her age - and your friendship will be as a possible means to this end. That is the only way in which I will allow it to continue._

_I await your response,_

_Mr. Johnathan Ferguson_’

“Ma’am?”

Byleth looked up. Mr. Lindel was standing over her. She must have been sitting reading the letter a long enough time after he had handed it to her to warrant an amount of worry from the man. So many lines of questions and their possibilities had been running through her mind she had forgotten he was still standing there.

How had Mr. Ferguson found out? They had spent a fair amount of time talking about Byleth’s confrontation of Mercedes, it may have even been longer than the usual time Mercedes was away. Mercedes had never let on how she arrived at the church and she had always been there before Byleth. She could have had a coach take her to the false destination she told her father and then walked from there. Her father could have gone looking for her at this location and, in asking about her finding she had not in fact been there at all that day, gone on a mad search. Mercedes was so kind hearted Byleth could easily see her dispelling the truth if she came home to a truly distraught father.

Another equally likely possibility was that a trusted footman brought her directly to the church and picked her up from a different location - as Byleth had always seen Mercedes leaving down the street rather than straight into a carriage. But if Mercedes did not arrive to that agreed upon spot for pick up then said footman could have grown worried and relayed the truth to Mr. Ferguson in case any tragedy had befallen Mercedes.

As for this ultimatum of sorts… Byleth took a deep centering breath. “Do not worry Mr. Lindel. I am fine. I will have a reply for you to take shortly.”

This situation was not within the realm of comfort for Byleth by any means, not at all something she would have ever chosen. But in asking herself if she believed the presence of Mercedes in her life to be worth the impending discomfort it would take to keep her there… Byleth’s feelings were easier to read than she could remember them being in a while.

When Byleth arrived at the church that afternoon Mercedes was already there. She rushed to hug Byleth the moment their eyes met. “Oh Byleth, I am so sorry.”

Byleth patted Mercedes’ hair and realized it was softer than she had first guessed. “Don’t apologize. I suspect the reason your secret was found out was because I kept you too long by confronting you as I did. I am sorry it came to this.”

There was surprise in Mercedes face when she leaned back from their embrace. “However did you know? My footman became worried when I was late and told father of our secret understanding. I did not think father would say as much in his letter.” For risk of embarrassment Mercedes did not say but Byleth understood. No man would keep on a servant he found out to be more loyal to his child’s whims than the masters.

A sigh and a nod. “I expected that to be one of the possibilities. I assume he also let your footman go?”

“He did,” Mercedes nodded sadly, “Helmut was very kind towards me, I hope he finds another position soon.”

It would be difficult for any servant to do so without a recommendation from the previous employer, but Byleth chose not to say as much. Mercedes would already know this herself. In the ensuing pause Mercedes fiddled a tad with her gloves before she again looked in Byleth’s eyes. “You said you do not enjoy social gatherings or are very good at them. So for you to agree that you will attend them with me…”

Ah. How silly. Byleth tilted her head before raising a hand to gently touch it to Mercedes’ cheek as she watched her. “I enjoy your company too much to put a stop to it for a reason such as where I must keep it.”

If Byleth did not think her agreement to be worth it before, by the goddess did she think it at that moment when Mercedes smiled that smile and reached up to clasp at Byleth’s fingers against her face.

And as it turned out, Mr. Ferguson would allow a degree of build up in this agreement of theirs. Now that everything was out in the open Mercedes was able to speak and meet freely with Byleth and relay her father’s wishes herself, rather than Byleth meet him in person or continue their communication through letters. Byleth was not at all above admitting to Mercedes that while it might not be wholly comfortable to Mercedes to be the ‘middleman’ as it were, she preferred it to the alternative of speaking with him herself. It was not very certain to Byleth what she might say or do if she were forced to be in the same room as the man that was using her friend so against her wishes and now orchestrating their very friendship how he deemed fit. No matter how close it may have been to most relationships at the positions of the two girls.

Most things could not be any more dissimilar to most girls, however, when it came to the young Miss Byleth Eisner. In receiving word that the daughter of another military man that had worked many a time with her father was also now in the Kingdom to make her way about society, Byleth had hoped there was enough alike in their situations that they could at least be cordial to one another. And yet when she found herself standing in a parlor sipping away at tea facing none other than this Leonnie herself, well… she saw that nothing could be further than the truth.

The party was held by a woman that was friends of Leonnie’s family. Given the task of introducing the redhead into the scene as fresh off the boat as she was the woman had decided to throw a small party for her to meet other girls her age within similar circles. Byleth had received an invitation as another military daughter away from her father and left in the Kingdom. She had then extended this to Mercedes as her plus one. But Mercedes was off chatting and giggling with a grandmother in some corner of the room, having abandoned Byleth the moment she and Leonnie were introduced. Mercedes had left so quickly to allow them to be acquainted she must not have caught the very clear look of disappointment that swept across Leonnie’s face when she gave Byleth a full body glance over. Byleth was certain had it not been for this middle-woman, she would not have been invited in the slightest.

“Are you really Captain Eisner’s daughter? You look nothing like him.” If Byleth was to be ridiculed for her lack of understanding in social cues then it was a wonder Leonnie did not receive the same treatment. Later she would hear women laughing sweetly that she would simply learn in time now that she was among proper company. Was it Leonnie’s more pleasing demeanor that earned her such an allowance Byleth never had?

“I am told I resemble my mother a great deal,” Byleth replied simply.

Another expression of displeasure. Whatever more socially acceptable attitude that made Leonnie more palatable than Byleth, she had yet to see it. Leonnie’s brows came together and her mouth drew to one side as if she were wondering at just how much she disliked a taste in her mouth. “When I was young my father was stationed in a village that was often attacked by poachers and bandits. Captain Eisner came and laid absolute waste to them, my whole family including myself have looked up to him ever since. Where were you when this was happening? I don’t remember him mentioning a wife much less a child.”

A nod from Byleth. It was not strange for her to hear - although the clear distaste before she even had the chance to do anything so strange herself was new. “My mother passed when I was born, and for a time I was very sickly. While father took me with him wherever he was stationed he would often leave me at the bigger forts and cities until my health later improved.”

This did earn a change in expression at least. Leonnie flushed - her mouth now drawing into something akin to a frown. Byleth caught herself thinking that she quite liked the orange of this girl’s hair and that of her light eyes. How tightly her hair was pinned back it almost looked as if it were short as a young boys - and it fit the shape of her face quite well. Was she adventurous enough against social norms to attempt such a look? In wondering at this Byleth almost missed the eventual apology Leonnie gave after her pause of shame. “I am sorry. That was not very kind of me to say.”

Byleth merely shook her head. “I can understand your disappointment. I am about as different from my father as oil is to water. And - you were unaware.”

A tilt to Leonnie’s head so that she looked at Byleth out the corner of her eye. Was it surprise? Amusement, as it tunrned out at least in part, by the way she laughed. “No - that was pretty close, actually.”

While they did not talk for much longer that particular evening - Leonnie was pulled away to be introduced to another daughter of a military man she might have known - Byleth considered it the high point of that particular social gathering. Following that interaction Byleth made a number of blunders including but not limited to: citing the late fashion of a woman’s dress when Byleth overheard her laughing cruelly about Mercedes only speaking to the elderly grandmother most of the party, saying that clearly her attitude was not the only thing that needed to be fixed, disagreeing in only slightly colorful language with another woman about the benefits of education for the lower classes, and so on.

Byleth had hoped at the very least that Mercedes had been saved from overhearing any of this. It was preferable that she had instead been content in the little world she had created talking to the elderly woman and retrieving a variety of little cakes for her. This too turned out to be very far from the truth. “I understand you think you were rebutting with another social faux pa when you said that about that woman’s dress, Byleth,” Mercedes said once they had settled into their carriage at the end of the party, “but it was not very nice.”

“They laughed at you,” Byleth said, voice betraying not an ounce of shame. Not until she considered it for a moment - and then hung her head a fraction. “I do apologize, your father will likely not deem this a victory.”

Mercedes waved a hand. “I’m not so sure. I did not trip and spill anything over any furniture or fine new dresses - so it is better than some of my past attendances.”

Byleth’s eyes rose to meet Mercedes for such an image. The girls looked at one another for a beat - before breaking out laughing. When they were coming close to Byleth’s home for her to be dropped off first Mercedes leaned in to plant a soft kiss on her cheek. “But you seemed to have done well with Miss Leonnie. Maybe we can go to other functions with her.”

“You are an optimist, Mercedes,” Byleth said in a hum when their carriage came to a stop. Within the action of standing to exit she gave Mercedes her own kiss - just the faintest pass of lips over her own. “Do not lose that.”

Only when she made it to the safety and solitude of her bedroom did Byleth allow herself to touch one hand to the bloom of warmth at her cheek and the other to the soft sensation in her lips. Now that… she would call a total success.

She was still buzzing in wonder over the quiet affections she had shared with her friend in their carriage the following morning. It was unexpected when Mr. Lindel broke the silence over her breakfast and coffee with a sobering question. “You have not written your father since this… arrangement with Mr. Ferguson has begun, Miss. Are you sure that is wise? If you would forgive my being so forward… I do believe your father would not at all be pleased with how you are being treated. This man split so many hairs in citing the social etiquette for young girls of society to be introduced - the hairs are too miniscule to comprehend.”

The sound of her cup being set into its saucer made a small ‘clink’ in the ensuing pause. She released a small laugh in response to the last sentiment. It was rather true. “You may always be honest with me, Mr. Lindel, I hope you know that. I welcome your opinions and advice. Nor do I disagree with you. My father would be angry if he were to hear anything about this, and probably write to Mr. Ferguson immediately if not threaten to return home and deal with the matter in person. However… I do not want him to worry, at least for now. I do not believe Mr. Ferguson means me any harm. He is grasping at any and all chances he can find for Mercedes to be wed as he deems fit.” 

“No, I would like to try and deal with this as a grown woman on my own should.” As she spoke Byleth had been watching the morning pass them by through the sheer curtains, but now she looked up to meet her butler’s gaze. “I ask that you please not inform him of this, if you have not already. I promise if I believe myself to be in any real danger, physical or otherwise, I will write to him myself.”

A moment passed between them. It was then that Byleth realized perhaps this was what others meant when they said it was disconcerting to speak with her at times, because her expressions were so difficult to read. Whether it be a personal flaw like her own, or a trained manner after years of service, Mr. Lindel’s expression remained unmoving as he watched his young charge. Finally he spoke. “As you wish, Miss Byleth.”

They had reached an understanding then. Byleth was relieved and nodded to him. “Thank you, Mr. Lindel, I do appreciate it.”

“You must find this Mercedes girl to be very worth it, ma’am, if you don’t mind my saying.”

A smile tugged at Byleth’s lips. “She is.”

Two weeks following their first small party together the girls were invited to another social gathering, this at a slightly larger scale but not by much. A young lady was having her coming out into society but, as the rumor had gone around, her elder brother was on the protective side. This led to the girl having grown up in quite the sheltered life. Such a case meant that the ball was a bit smaller than most would have been for girls of her high position in society. It seemed the only reason they secured an invitation was because the elderly woman Mercedes had befriended at their last party had spoken so highly of her as a gentle soul to Mr. Seteth, the elder brother.

Against the expectations of most upon meeting her and taking in her usually bland countenance Byleth was a fan of fashion. She was more than happy to go shopping with Mercedes for dresses to wear for this event. “Are you sure, Byleth? You already wear so much blue and black…” Mercedes spoke softly, watching her friend rub different fabrics between her fingers. 

“They are my signatures, and make it that much easier to get dressed in the morning.” Byleth hummed. She had long been told that her love for dark colors made her appear drab and even depressing at especially gay and lively parties. But none of those comments had seemed to affect her taste in fashion as of yet. In the end the outfit she chose did include a few… nods to different colors. A black skirt with gray designs not unlike lacework, with a black corseted bust in gold accents, and a high starkly white collar.

Byleth could not help pointing out that Mercedes final choice included just such colors she had said Byleth seemed unwilling to stray from. A full skirt of dark gray with cerulean blue trim, a pale pearl colored blouse with gold accents to match the gold, blue trimmed shawl. “I may have some earrings that would go quite well with the whole ensemble,” Byleth mused, “father bought them for me once, but they have never quite matched anything for me.”

“Oh, if you don’t mind lending them to me, I would feel rather comforted to know I am wearing something of yours should we get separated.”

This made Byleth tilt her head. “You seemed fine enough when we were apart at Leonnie’s party.”

Mercedes laughed and shook her head, letting the pretty gauzy fabric of a lining she had been feeling fall from her fingers. “That was because I saw Mrs. Gregory needed assistance. I feel more at ease when I can be of service to others. I am not sure such a situation will occur again this time around.”

“I will try my best to need your help through the entirety of the evening, then,” Byleth grinned deftly.

Mercedes seemed ready to question Byleth’s request for the dress to be delivered early enough for some ‘personal design touches’ to be done in time, but decided against it by the time they alighted a handsome cab to take them to their homes.

While Mercedes was the first to show her pleasure at Byleth’s dress when she arrived at the Eisner home early the night of the ball, so that they may ride there together, Byleth too felt her vision go hazy with shades of pink at the sight of Mercedes in her own outfit. The gold accents played so well with the color of her hair, and the blue touches with her eyes…

“I fear these earrings may be too little now to hold up to your beauty,” Byleth breathed out finally, taking up her hand to hold a single piece to Mercedes ear. They were simple blue ovals with gold fastenings at the top and bottom. Up close they were alarmingly similar to Mercedes eye color.

“Don’t be silly,” Mercedes insisted, taking both earrings from Byleth’s hands and immediately stepping towards the mirror of the entrance room to slip them on. Byleth could not help feeling elated to see that Mercedes had not arrived wearing any earrings in the first place.

“Why do you suppose this sort of thing is being held at a monastery of all places?” Byleth posed to her friend in their carriage.

“I hear Mr. Seteth has ties to the administration there. It is currently being used both as a church monastery as well as lodging and training grounds for local militia and police. After their facilities were damaged in that recent terrorist attack by that group… the name has something to do with snakes I believe.” A light passed through Mercedes face as she clapped her hands together eagerly. “The grounds are supposed to be gorgeous. I am excited to see them.”

“But if it is supposed to be a modest ball as has been said, why at such a large location?” Byleth mused outloud, looking out the small veiled windows. “Does he believe the mix of religious and lawful overtones will dissuade any men from making advances on her so soon?”

Mercedes merely tilted her head as her friend continued to speak of her theories through the rest of their travel time. Byleth joined the silence once they arrived. It was a silence born of wonder. As she stepped out from the carriage behind Mercedes she distantly recalled her father’s commentary on churches in his own experience. Oh but if he were there to see the Garreg Mach Monastery on that night…

What expenses were spared on the exclusive guest list and thusly less required invitations, food, drinks, and more, had clearly no need to be funneled into the budget for decoration. The cathedral itself was magnificent. Rows of well dressed footman on either side of the stone walk and stairs leading inside were holding lit candelabras to light the way, their gold stands polished to the point that they were practically a light source unto themselves. Just in the dark of night from the outside the colors of the many stained glass windows were dancing from the lights within.

The girl the ‘modest’ ball was for, Flayn, was delightful as it turned out. Byleth noted to later chastise whomever had spread any gossip that a girl raised by such an overbearing brother as this Mr. Seteth must be either a complete bore or an absolute brat. Her beautifully curled ringlets of pastel green hair bounced with her hurried steps to greet Mercedes and Byleth both when they arrived, as if they were all already longtime friends. “Thank you so much for coming!” She exclaimed cheerfully, holding each of their hands in her own and staring straight into their eyes as they were introduced.

“Flayn,” came a low, edging on stern voice to muddle the otherwise joyous atmosphere. The three girls turned to view an older man with deeper green hair to his chin and thin strips beard growth along his jawline. “We have talked about this.”

That much was clear by the way Flayn sighed - she also nearly rolled her eyes, which Byleth noticed and had to keep from laughing over as it earned her a few points in her book - and stepped back a half step. “You are right, brother.”

“Miss Eisner and Miss Ferguson,” the man began with a short nod to the girl, “my name is Seteth Nabatean. This is my sister Flayn Nabatean.”

Both Mercedes and Byleth gave their small curtsies, allowing Flayn to give her own. “Mrs. Gregory and Miss Leonnie Pinelli both spoke very highly of you,” Seteth said with a short nod, his expression as closed off as Flayn’s had been open.

“Mrs. Gregory is too kind,” Mercedes said, her smile easy in the face of this man’s stiffness. Byleth supposed it was to be expected of a girl that was so quick to befriend her.

At this point Seteth turned to Byleth. “And you are Captain Jeralt Eisner’s daughter, are you not? Come, tell me how he is doing.” While he did not physically touch her, the arm Seteth held in close proximity to Byleth’s back herded her away well enough. Mercedes said she would go find a drink with Flayn and could be found later as Byleth was led away by their host.

While it was not the absolute privacy of an empty room - that would be completely out of line - Seteth did manage to find a quieter corner in one of the small galleries adjacent to the main cathedral. “Last my father wrote-“

Seteth held up a quieting hand, expression graver than before. “I do not care. I wanted to speak to you alone because your reputation precedes you.”

Ah, of course. Byleth simply nodded - resigned to the speech she was about to receive. Seeing he would receive no argument Seteth continued. “At least you do not have the audacity to deny it. I have heard that you have a noted lack of etiquette, make rude remarks to others, have a total disregard for rules dictated by your social class, among many other disgressions. The only reason you received an invitation to this event was because of the high compliments Mercedes Ferguson has received, as well as the standing of your father. But should you prove any detriment to my sister’s reputation,” here he leaned in a tad closer than should have been allowed, as means of intimidating her no doubt. His eyes narrowed darkly, “you will come to regret it, I assure you.”

Being raised by an intimidating man in his own right and amongst soldiers certainly had it’s perks. Byleth did not retreat under that stare - simply faced it head on. “In the seven minutes I was allowed to speak with Miss Flayn before this warning, sir,” she said smoothly, “I found her to be very sweet and endearing. I would not dream of having any negative impact on her.”

Thoughts passed through those dark eyes glaring into hers. Finally coming to a decision, Seteth straightened himself up and held his arms properly behind his back. “While I do not wholly appreciate that note of impertinence, I am grateful for your words. You may go and enjoy the evening.”

As she watched him depart Byleth stood for a number of moments thinking to herself. Away from the capitol and amongst soldiers, even if she often had to interact with their families that could dislike her, she had always felt little need to change her ways. If women and other young girls turned their noses up at the ways her mind worked, her bluntly given opinions, her myriad of ‘unladylike’ interests, and her battle prowess - she could simply stay at home reading or be out in the wilderness on long walks away from said stuffy civilization. This was easy enough to do in all of the places she had lived with her father. But in this densely populated capital without her father to function as her backup against social avarice, as it were… going against the grain could have more detrimental affects on her.

Byleth tilted her head up, peering up at the high ribbed vaulted ceilings of the gallery in which she stood. They extended so far above her head that the candle light glow did not fully penetrate the darkness above. Painted details were cast into shadow while the corners were lost to completion. Even the most beautiful of places may hide secrets when there was not enough illumination to be had.

When she finally exited the gallery in search of Mercedes she found she was no longer only speaking to Flayn, the two of them now laughing in a group that included two new women. The first stranger appeared to be in her mid to late thirties, however the way she dressed and held herself alluded to a confidence most women would lost even by then. Her dark teal dress with copper colored accents would have likely been risqué for most anyone’s standards in the neckline - were it not for the large white caplet she wore draped sensually over her shoulders.

The other, closer to Byleth and Mercedes in age, had dark chestnut hair worn in beautifully thick wavy tresses. The warm tones to it were brought out by the deep crimson dress of black ruffles and lace. And her eyes - such a green took Byleth’s breath away when she approached them. Byleth was so taken by that particular shade, and the fiery wit moving within, that Mercedes had to speak when she noticed her presence and subsequent stunned silence. “Ah Byleth, here you are.” Mercedes greeted.

As was her role as hostess, Flayn was happy to make the introductions. “This is Manuela Casagranda, she is a lead diva from an Opera company and is going to preform for us tonight. And this is Dorothea Arnault, here as her attendant for the evening. She is also from the opera company. Manuela, Dorothea, this is Miss Byleth Eisner.”

A hum escaped Manuela’s lips as she reached out to finger Byleth’s hair - which she had only bothered to wear half up. “I am so happy to see more girls fighting outdated fashion trends these days. I quite like the worn down look.” She gestured to her own light brown hair worn in a short bob to her chin, and then to Dorothea’s style. “Us performers are allowed a certain level of deviance,” she said, the last word coming out as a purr practically.

As Manuela pulled her hand away Dorothea’s took it’s place, only she touched at Byleth’s cheek with a single, slow stroke of a fingertip. “I don’t know, I think her eyes are the most beguiling part of Miss Eisner. They are so clear I do believe they make me feel like my very soul is being peered into when she looks at me.”

“Aren’t they so beautiful and interesting?” Mercedes asked as she, Byleth, and Flayn later walked to another part of the cathedral. While the five had enjoyed talking about the latest fashions or different shows in production they ought to see, the performers had had to excuse themselves to prepare for later.

“They certainly are,” Byleth said, still somewhere between the lines of amused and perplexed at the meeting of two such women.

Flayn gave a charming little giggle. “I quite like them. Brother allowed me the small consolation of choosing the entertainment for tonight, as he was heavy handed in everything else. I do not think he would have picked such interesting women. He is a bit old fashioned.”

Byleth, rather than extrapolating on Mr. Seteth’s traits - ‘old fashioned’ or no - changed the subject. “Mercedes, would you like to explore the grounds for a bit, now that we have followed part of our social obligations for the evening? And allow Miss Flayn to greet more of her guests.”

“I think I shall stay with you two for a while yet, if you don’t mind,” Flayn shook her head and grinned a little sheepishly. “Most everyone else are friends of my brothers. I know a debut ball is meant to be, well, a ball but… I would much rather become friends with those closer to my age than dance with older strangers. Only if you do not mind,” of a rushed addendum at the end.

She wanted friends of her own. Out of anyone Byleth could not fault her that. She tried for a gentle and warm smile, like one of Mercedes, to show her understanding. “I do not mind in the least.”

“And nor do I,” Mercedes replied with glee, patting at Byleth’s arm as if to tell her she had done well, “let’s explore together then.” As the three passed through a broad pointed archway into a long stone covered walk between buildings. There were a number of lit torches and lanterns casting a warm glow about them into the night.

“Did you have a good talk with my brother?” Flayn asked. An attempt to foster conversation that… Byleth had to give pause about how to respond.

It would do her no credit in Mr. Seteth’s eyes to make him appear a villain to his beloved little sister. However nor was Byleth often one to withhold the truth, no matter how socially isolating it may become. “He may have heard of Captain Jeralt Eisner, but I doubt he’s met him more than in passing. His primary worry was-“

“Excuse me,” someone cut in, interrupting Byleth’s halting explanation with an excited clearing of the throat - if there were such a thing. The girls turned to see a stoutly built man with brown slicked back hair and trimmed beard. “Did you say Captain Jeralt Eisner?”

In the face of such clear friendliness Byleth nodded. “Yes, he is my father.”

“Aha! I had heard he had a child,” the man took Byleth’s hand most enthusiastically. The broad smile he wore more naturally than his fine suit broke face nearly in half it was so large.

With a small exclamation of, “oh,” Flayn realized her responsibility in the situation. “This is Detective Alois Rangeld. Sir, this is Byleth Eisner and Mercedes Ferguson.”

Rengeld laughed, introductions only growing his enthusiasm. “I trained under your father many years ago, before I was discharged and came home to work as a detective in the capital. But I will never forget his kindness taking a kid like me as his right hand man in the old days.”

“I believe he may have mentioned you,” Byleth nodded. “I remember him saying you were really very young when he first met you.”

Just hearing that he had been spoken of at all clearly pleased the man, even more so that they girl had remembered it. He laughed long and loud. “Ah yes, I was a stowaway you see, just wanted to get away from all of the crotchety old priests raising me. They put me to work playing the morning bugle calls and washing but - well, after a week of my wake up calls your father decided I could be of better use somewhere else.”

“I don’t suppose that sort of skill comes up much as a detective,” Mercedes laughed.

“I apologize for interrupting you ladies. If Captain Eisner is here I would be happy to speak with him and allow you three to continue.” A small laugh and nod to Flayn, “you know how your brother is about my speaking too much to you.”

What issue would Mr. Seteth have with Flayn speaking to a detective, especially if he had ties with such areas of government? It would seem by Flayn’s understanding nod, however, that there would be no more context clues to be had at the present time. Byleth shook her head, apologetic. “I am afraid my father is not here. He is still away on duty.”

“That is too bad, I would have liked to catch up,” Detecive Rengeld seemed sincerely disappointed. Bless the man, though, he did quickly cover it up with another big grin. “If you are here by yourself though Miss Byleth, please do not hesitate to call on me at police headquarters should you ever need anything. Anything at all. It is the least I could do to help the Captain’s child after everything he did for me.”

“I will Detective, thank you.”

“Then ladies,” he brought his heels together in a military stance, perhaps out of habit or perhaps because of Byleth’s relation to her father she could not tell, “do enjoy the rest of your evening.”

“I feel I will have to meet your father at some point, just to see if this wonderful reputation I keep hearing of is true.” Mercedes said with an amused tone as they continued on.

“As do I,” Flayn chimed in. “If Mr. Rengeld is fond of him he must be less stuffy than my brother’s military friends.”

“I look nothing like him, I give you fair warning,” Byleth shook her head. “And he has a better sense of humor than I do. Miss Leonnie was right to second guess our relation. Part of me is surprised Detective Rengeld did not.”

Before they continued on, however, they were witness to a tall blonde woman exiting the party into the corridor to meet Rengeld as he had begun to head inside. The way in which she advanced directly towards Detective Rengeld made it appear as if she had been looking for him. The din of the guests made it impossible to hear them from the distance they were now at, nor was the light shining in the most opportune way to attempt reading their lips. Still, Byleth could gather enough from their body language.

The woman had the tanned skin that alluded to time spent outside often, although Byleth would guess that this affect was furthered by an already warm toned natural complexion. Her hair was a light blonde, more gold than Mercedes, also likely from time under the sun. Most astounding was her attire, as she wore trousers. This was not entirely unheard of although it was still a rarity. She was half a head taller than Detective Rengeld, nor did she appear embarrassed by this state as most upper class ladies often were. Rather she spoke to the man with a square shouldered posture of equal authority.

“She is of the militia here, is she not?” Byleth asked, looking to Mercedes and Flayn. They had been commenting on the appearance of the stained glass windows from the outside, lit from within as they were on a dark evening such as this.

“Hm?” Flayn hummed in coming out of one topic to the next. A small gasp of understanding, “oh yes, that is Captain Katherine Charon. She is head of the militia that are stationed here for the time being. Do you know of her, Miss Byleth?”

“I do not. But it is easy enough to guess.” When there was no reply to her statement Byleth turned and found Flayn and Mercedes both watching her in bright eyed wonderment. A sigh escaped her lips. Really, she thought this to be quite a simple case of deduction. “For starters, she is in trousers.”

Flayn was so intrigued by this whole situation, it seemed, that she could not help being the devil’s advocate. “But that could mean any number of things. Maybe she is a part of the show with Miss Manuela.”

A nod from Byleth. “That could be true, if that were the only factor we had of note. But there is also her coloring, which leads one to believe she spends more time outside then a performer.”

Mercedes was happy to enter the action. “A groomswoman, then. I have met one such a woman at a country church.”

“A good guess.” Byleth agreed with another nod, her tone slipping into the matter of fact nature she so easily fell into when speaking of her deductive reasonings. As she listed off points she lightly tapped the toe of her shoe against the cobblestones on which they stood. “However she also holds herself with a dignity and authority, notably when speaking to the Detective, that would be uncharacteristic of most grooms. You must remember that I spent much of my youth amongst the military, and can thus recognize the posture with which one holds themself when they are in the service. The familiarity with which she speaks with Detective Rengeld leads one to believe that they know each other. Taking into account that the militia and police are both holding quarters here at this time, and that she did not give him any motions to respect him as superior in rank, even as a different branch, helps along the assumption that she is a captain or ranked officer of some sort.”

When she was finished neither Flayn nor Mercedes said a word for a time. Byleth was beginning to believe she had insulted their intelligence, a slight she had been frequently cited for in past failed friendships. This was the first occasion in a long while that she felt a pang of distress over such a possibility. Flayn, as brief as their interactions had been so far, was sweet. And Mercedes… Before she could fully spiral into disparing acceptance that she had lost yet another friend, Flayn began clapping. And then so did Mercedes.

“That is simply amazing, Miss Byleth!” Flayn exclaimed.

“I knew you were smart and oberved quite a lot, but it is still so fascinating to watch it unfold before you.” The fist around Byleth’s heart loosened with Mercedes addition.

“It is a skill I’ve developed over the years.” Was she embarrassed? That was a new emotion for her. Byleth was trying to move on by following with, “but they are still busy talking, and Miss Flayn has kindly provided the truth to my guesses, so perhaps we should continue our walk.”

The girls went on their way down the covered corridor, ending up in a smaller chapel with thin stained glass windows they could see lit up from the outside. Mercedes was eager to see them up close and was even more elated to see none other than a priest talking with a middle aged man inside. “He will be able to tell us the history I am sure,” she whispered as they approached.

The priest was an elderly man with pale brown hair, almost appearing as if it had saturated in old age rather than turning gray. His robes were a modest, thick fabric of light tan. As much as his apparel belayed his profession as a priest, so did the other man’s as a scholar of some sort. His hair a dark gray, he also sported a matching goatee and finely styled moustache. He wore a gray suit coat with a green ascot and, to complete the look, a gold monocole pinned neatly to his striped lapel. It was he that was speaking when the girls came within earshot.

“I was allowed to study I handful of your texts on Crests here during my time in university. But if I was ever given the chance again I would be most delighted to read more.”

“I would be happy to oblige you, Professor Hanneman, at your earliest convenience,” said the priest in a calm ease that often came with age. He even had a walking stick, Byleth noticed as they saw him from another angle in their approach, on which he rested both of his hands. Although it must have been a hand-me-down of some kind, from another elder in the church perhaps, because it did not seem wholly a comfortable fit under his palms as he continued to quietly shift them for better purchase throughout the conversation. The movements stopped in their tracks when he noticed the three women nearby. “Oh, hello there young ladies.”

At this point the professor turned so that he may see who the priest was speaking to. A polite smile came into his expression as he nodded. “Forgive me, did you have a question for Father Tomas as well?”

Mercedes shook her head. “No, if we are interrupting you I can look for another member here to-“

“I am afraid I am the only one here tonight, Miss, and mostly for the purpose of answering any questions guests may have. I am the librarian for the monastery you see, so if I do not know something about it’s architecture or history I know where to look for the answer. My name is Father Tomas,” before a gesture to the man beside him, who bowed politely. “And this is Professor Hanneman, a scholar of Crests.”

While she was not looking at her, Byleth could feel the hitch of hesitation in Mercedes by the tiny stiffening of her body against hers. With so much emphasis based on her Crest by family she supposed anyone would feel some kind of unease when someone that studies them is introduced.

Flayn too had a slight twinge to her expression, although it was only a brief and minuscule change before it was covered over by her proper young lady smile and role. “These are my friends, Byleth Eisner and Mercedes Ferguson.”

Byleth gave a small bow of her head in greeting to the men. “Mercedes and I spend some time volunteering at a small church and Mercedes is always interested in learning more.” If she switched the subject resolutely away from Crests and planted it more firmly in the realm of interest for the priest and Mercedes both mayhaps it would stay there.

Father Tomas took them on a tour of the grounds, expounding on flying buttresses this or shifts in traditional Gothic architecture that, while Professor Hanneman occasionally gave comments about the influence of a Crest could have on an individual in the case of groundbreaking architects and members of history. The professor would attempt to then turn the questioning to Miss Flayn in particular, citing that he knew her brother to be the holder of a Major Crest, and asking if she had any questions about the meaning behind her own. Despite her earlier discomfort Flayn would easily enough inform him that she did not have much interest in the topic of Crests, no matter how many times the Professor attempted to change her opinion with more excited talk about the affects of Crests on different figures in the history the currently surrounded their small band.

On their way down a hall to be shown the library the group came into contact with an odd man just exiting a room. His hair was the color of pale straw, pulled into a neat ponytail at the back of his neck. He wore the tan uniform of the local police with the addition of a red caplet trimmed in brown. Most of the features above his nose were disguised by the presence of… a white mask? A performer in costume, perhaps? Although his manner of walk did lend to actual service. He passed them by with a fleeting glance at Flayn - and then a slightly lingering one on Mercedes. In catching this Byleth realized that Mercedes too had stopped to follow him with her eyes. The expression she wore was one of… pained confusion. When Father Tomas called back for them however she simply shook it away and followed without a word. 

They spent very little time in the library, as Flayn was quick to depart so that the girls may hear Manuela’s singing. Byleth noted that for the rest of the night she did not see the man in the mask - preforming or otherwise. Rather she spent a lovely time watching Manuela sing, herself sitting in a place of honor with Miss Flayn, Mr. Seteth, and Mercedes. Mr. Nabatean did not look entirely pleased with this turn of events but did not appear willing to deny his sister outright, or at least not in public. He stood off to the side as they parted ways at the end of the night.

Flayn held one of Byleth’s hands and one of Mercedes in her own when they said their goodbyes. “We must spend more time together. I so enjoyed meeting the two of you tonight. And I really would like to see more of Miss Byleth’s skills at deduction.”

“Deduction?” Mr. Seteth repeated with a quirked brow.

“Oh brother it was amazing!” Flayn exclaimed and smiled at the mere memory. “She guessed so much about Captain Charon without speaking to her at all. Only by watching her speak to Mr. Rengeld.”

“What an interesting skill, Miss Eisner.” Now his other brow rose to the same height as it’s twin - yet somehow Byleth did not believe the statement was entirely within the realm of a ‘compliment.’

Following such an eventfully social night Byleth slept quite well. Although there were a few bumps along the road in the form of Mr. Seteth’s warning, the usual concern of pushing possible acquaintances away with her blunt and curious attitude became a… selling point of sorts to the little hostess Miss Flayn? It warmed Byleth’s heart and made her hopeful that she may in fact be able to count two amazing girls among her friends. 

Byleth Eisner tended to be an early riser - whether by her own nature or having been raised by a military men - and was already taking her breakfast with coffee the next morning when Mr. Lindel entered the small dining room. “Ma’am, a Detective Rengeld is here. I left him in the parlor but… he seems to be in a rush. He is investiagating something involving the event you attended last night.”

A flood of possibilities crashed through Byleth’s thoughts as she immediately stood from her place at the table to go and meet her visitor. She found the Detective looking over some photographs on the wall of her and her father. The fact that he had not bothered to sit showed how much of a hurry he was in - even in peering at the photos his foot was tapping impatiently against the floorboards. “Detective,” she said, “how can I be of assistance?”

“Miss Eisner,” he greeted with a jovial enough voice - although when he turned she saw he was holding his hat in his hands. Anxiety. “I am sorry that this is not under better circumstances, miss.”

Byleth nodded, slowly. “I feel there is a but coming, Detective Rengeld.”

He nodded in return and took a deep inhalation of air. “But since last night Flayn Nabatean has gone missing.”


	2. Colored Sunlight and Masked Figures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to make it known that while this fic is very obviously based upon the fashions, etiquette, and more of Victorian/Edwardian England - I purposefully chose to keep the setting vague with words such as ‘kingdom’ and ‘capital.’ There were many human and natural atrocities done by the British Empire at this time that I do not feel up to or perhaps able to include in a fanfiction if this were to be a properly accurate work. However I still felt to not say so was to ignore them completely, so I thought it best that I make this statement.

Byleth Eisner was a lady. She stands with a tall back and poised posture, dressed properly for the day no matter if she had planned to spend it about the house. With all of the polite air dictated by her class she nod her head, indicating to the detective for him to continue, although at this moment it was a short and jerking sort of motion.

“We have most of our men out questioning everyone that attended the ball,” Detective Rengeld insisted with a firm nod of his own, “asking for anything and everything anyone remembers about Miss Flayn Nabatean last night. Or anything otherwise strange that they witnessed.”

Were she at all like what was expected of girls Byleth would have taken a seat in the force of sheer shock hitting her. Instead her mind narrowed into a sharp point, any day to day thoughts or worries about the etiquette required of her in this situation falling away in the background - although she could not recall ever being advised of how to act lady-like when one’s friend is missing and a Detective on the case is standing before you. Mixed with different scenarios were images of the girls smiling face, the sound of her laughter and her amazement. She  _ had _ to be found. “Mercedes and I both said our goodbyes to her before we departed for home, and that was the last we saw of her. Was she last seen at the party, or had Mr. Nabatean seen her before retiring for the evening?”

Either he did not realize that her turning questioning onto him was strange or he did not mind - either way Byleth appreciated that the detective answered her at all. “Mr. Nabatean came to us late last night. Miss Flayn was nowhere to be found when he meant to leave the monastery, so he assumed she had grown tired and headed home alone. However when he reached their house he was told the servants had not seen her since she had left with Mr. Nabatean for the ball.”

A nod from Byleth as she took in the information. “And you waited until this morning to start the search in case she did eventually return home through the night.”

A bare look of confusion filtered into Detective Rengeld’s expression but he did not voice it as of yet. “That is correct. It was not easy to get Mr. Nabatean to leave last night, let me tell you. And he was back to our makeshift office bright and early.”

“Makeshift… Because your existing headquarters are still under construction?”

“That’s right. Caught us with our pants down is what everyone’s saying. Haven’t had the best reputation since then, I’m not too afraid to tell you miss…” Ah, now he caught himself. Rengeld shook himself out of it with a quick shift of his head and his shoulders - as if adding more bodily movement would rid him of the situation better. “But that is neither here nor there. If you think of anything, please do not hesitate to call on us.”

Whilst her mind was wheeling through all she had learned and still could guess Byleth led him to the door. “Of course Detective. I hope Flayn is soon found safe.”

A sigh as he placed his hat on his head and stepped out. His shoulders drooped in the release of air. This weighed on his mind heavily, as well as his heart by the look of his eyes. “Me too miss.”

As the door closed Jenny poked her head out of the kitchen door at the end of the hall. “Mrs. Foster was about to send me to ask if you and the detective would like some tea, but it looks like not. He was not here very long was he?”

Byleth turned from the door to face Jenny, but her eyes were not focused on her. They were far off - or perhaps more accurately they were hazed over as they looked inward. Surveying the map of facts and conjectures steadily building within her thoughts. “I am afraid not Jenny. Miss Flayn Nabatean, the girl whose entrance ball I attended last night, has gone missing.”

Now Jenny gave a proper gasp befitting the tragedy of it. “Oh that’s terrible. You suppose he would have spoken to your friend Miss Mercedes as well?”

“Him or one of his men,” Byleth said, her tone slowly tapering off in a brief further thought. When it was decided Byleth brought her head up, eyes clear now upon her kitchen maid’s face. “Jenny, could you please have Billy be ready to take a note for me?” Byleth asked. She would have a correspondence for her footman to take soon enough.

Things were looking up when Mercedes agreed to meet Byleth at a tea room that afternoon. Apparently hearing about the disappearance of their host was emotional enough an occurrence to warrant Mr. Ferguson’s allowance for such a meeting. Mercedes had been brief in her response about meeting to the affirmative, but Byleth could tell this was affecting her from the moment she stepped through the door of the agreed upon establishment. She immediately reached to hold Byleth’s hand in her lap when she took her seat, scooting her chair just close enough to do so. There was not even a glance at the tea and scones Byleth had already ordered for them. “Oh Byleth, this is simply awful. We only saw her last night - not half a day since we waved to her goodbye and promised to meet again soon.”

Comforting others was not Byleth’s most skilled trait, especially not physically. Her automatic reaction to any crisis was to help fix the problem rather than wade in the grief and anxiety of it. The best she could do now was rub the tops of Mercedes hands with her thumbs and simply nod. “I had assumed you would also be questioned. What did you tell them?”

A deep breath had to be taken before Mercedes began to speak less emotionally. “That the last time I saw her was when you and I left for the night. They asked if she had been acting at all strange - to which I said that I had not met her prior to make a proper judgment, but she was very energetic and kind the whole of the time we spent with her. Not at all like someone that was planning to runaway.” Mercedes stopped here to breathe, finally taking a sip of her tea and releasing a slightly calmed exhale after. She searched the teacup for answers whilst she thought. Her brows were furrowed in rememberance of it all - and confusion. She looked up at her friend again. “Do you think that’s what has happened, Byleth? That she left of her own accord?”

Mercedes expected her to have answers, and though they were not definite Byleth felt she had strong possibilities to offer. “I do not imagine that to be the case, no matter how frightening it is to think of the alternative,” she shook her head. “For starters, I find it hard to believe that she could have fled willingly under the nose of a brother such as Mr. Seteth. Flayn has grown up in the lap of luxury, and such girls are most unwilling to leave without bags of clothes and personal items, none of which would be particularly easy to get out of a house without servants noticing. The whole of the house would be waiting for their arrival home after the ball.”

As she nodded along Mercedes chewed on a scone. When she was finished she continued the thought. “And if you say she is unlikely to run with only the clothes on her back, then leaving straight from the ball would not make sense… but then how could she be taken? There were so many people at the ball, my goodness the monastery is being used by the police at the moment. One would hope such an environment would be the last place a girl need fear abduction.”

One would hope. Byleth placed her cup in it’s saucer. There were a few remaining specks of leaves in the bottom, creating a chaotic pattern of black and brown against the pristine white china of the cup. The teabag had likely torn. “She never reached her home, and something like an attack on her carriage would have been reported by now. This means she was somehow abducted from the monastery itself, or…”

A slow lean forward in her chair. “Or?”

“Or she never left.”

Mercedes could not believe it. “What do you mean?”

“Would you like to go back to the monastery with me, Mercedes?” There was the barest quirk of a grin at Byleth’s lips. Her shoulders squared off and her back heightened itself as she faced Mercedes with her offer. “As soon as we are finished here? Perhaps we can find some clues ourselves.”

But her friend was hesitant. Mercedes finished off another scone before she looked at Byleth sidelong. “Would we not get in the way of the police investigation?”

“Not if we say Father Tomas had made it clear we were welcome to look around the library.” It was natural for Mercedes to be unsure, however Byleth had a feeling that there was a part of her angelic friend that wanted to. And yet there was still another factor. Byleth said a bit more slowly, “I feel I must say however that this… may not be to your father’s liking.”

“It may not be, but if we can be of any help to Miss Flayn, any at all,” despite her misgivings Mercedes spoke with a voice of absolute certainty in this regard. “Then I will take the chance.” 

Gliding in the cool flowing river of observation and deduction as she had been, Byleth felt a peal of warmth split through her to see Mercedes determination. It was why, despite the dire circumstances, Byleth wore a smile for the rest of their meal. Some tiny voice in the back of Byleth’s brain told her that the thrill of excitement she felt along her spine, the sparks of wonder in her brain whenever she was given a problem to solve, was downright cruel to feel much less show when a life was possibly in danger. But she would not deny that she was happy Mercedes would join her.

In the light of day the girls were better able to see the true size of the monastery. The Gothic architecture with it’s darkened gray stones and multiple heavy archways made the main buildings appear as if they would forever stand the test of time, imposing it’s height and grandeur on many generations to come. While the outside walls of the main cathedral were kept clean Byleth could clearly remember from the night before some of the other buildings wearing thin layers of climbing vines, like a light jacket prepared in case of chill.

“I see that you were prepared to spend time outside today,” Mercedes commented as Byleth stepped down from their carriage with a gold and red parasol in the crook of her elbow, “but it does not look as that will be necessary.” The sky was planted firmly within the usual range of gray for the capitol - not sunny but not expectant of any rain either.

“One never knows,” Byleth remarked as she finished hopping down.

Out of interest to see how the cathedral was set up normally, and deciding it to be a good place to start as one of the main buildings, the girls stepped through it’s large wooden doors first. When they entered it was as if no event had been hosted inside other than religious services just the night before - if ever at all. Heavy, dark wooden pews marched in neat lines all the way to the altar-topped pedestal. There was nary a sign of a decoration, a chair, a table, anything. It’s impossibly high ceilings made it feel particularly cavernous without the number of bodies filling the air with gossip and the clatter of dancing feet. The only souls within it’s confines now were Byleth, Mercedes, and a girl lighting a candle to the right of the pedestal.

That shade of orange looked awfully familiar. “Miss Leonnie?” Byleth spoke as they approached her, the girl coming to stand from her kneeling position just as they did so. She had been praying - how unexpected.

“Byleth,” Leonnie greeted with a belated nod. It seemed Byleth was one of the last people she would expect to meet here as well. “Miss Mercedes.”

“Were you lighting a candle for Miss Flayn?” Mercedes posed in that soft voice of hers. It seemed to do just the trick of melting a fraction of that ice Leonnie had put up in her surprise.

The redhead nodded again, letting out a sigh and putting a hand on her hip to look around the grand building in which they stood. “I just can’t believe how strange it all is.”

“Were you here last night, then? At the party?” Byleth asked, holding her parasol neatly in front of her. As she spoke she stepped away from the two other girls to peer at the stone walls of the cathedral, looking out one stained glass window before moving on to another.

Although obviously perplexed by Byleth’s movements, Leonnie answered all the same. “I was. I guess you guys were too - I might have seen you heading outside at some point with Miss Flayn.”

Mercedes for her part did not appear affected at all by her friend’s investigating windows and pews. “Yes, we wanted to take a look around the grounds. We ended up meeting Father Tomas who was happy to give Miss Flayn, Byleth, Professor Hanneman, and I a tour.”

There was a pause. When Leonnie replied her voice was higher, almost questioning in tone. “Funnily enough Father Tomas was here not that long ago. He was asking about Flayn but - about you as well Byleth. And Captain Jeralt.”

From her place beside one of the nearby pews - trying to subtly test just how heavy they were - Byleth stopped and looked at Leonnie. “About my father and I?”

Leonnie waved a dismissive hand. There was no need to react in such a shocked manner, at least not in her mind. “I think he may have just been worried about another girl here without family. He told me to be careful, what with Miss Flayn going missing and I being in a similar position to yours.”

It did not assuage her curiosity but Byleth nodded all the same. “I see. How kind of him.” She looked up to the grandiose rose window of the cathedral. Each of it’s intricate spokes led to a circle depicting one of the saints for which each of the Crests were named, with a darkened form of the Goddess at it’s center. While colorful - she wondered at the vagueness found in some visages compared to the detail found in the individual windows lining the stone walls.

“It is interesting that he is asking after Miss Flayn as well,” Mercedes hummed, tapping a finger to the side of her face thoughtfully.

“As well?” Leonnie quirked a brow.

Byleth did not have to give Mercedes an at all reproachful look - the small gasp the blonde gave was enough. She realized mayhaps she should not have let that slip. She did not suppose she had been purposefully keeping their intention a secret from Leonnie - and in realizing this Byleth noted she did not believe it to be necessary. “Mercedes and I came to investigate the grounds, ask around about Miss Flayn, in an attempt to find some clues the police might miss.”

The Leonnie from their first meeting returned when she snickered. “You think you know better than they do?”

“Not better,” Byleth spoke honestly, “only different. Women have a certain skill set in this age that men do not possess: gaging their physical and reputational safety constantly in their environment. Men of standing within our society as it is do not worry for their person near as much as women do, so they oftentimes automatically assume safety with far more ease than a woman or others without their privilege.”

Two different gazes with two differing emotions behind them watched Byleth following her short speech. Mercedes’ deep blue eyes held admiration and wonder. Leonnie’s held a mixture of confusion and… respect? Byleth could not be sure which notion overpowered the other in the redhead’s mind. It appeared as if she was going to say something when the loud, echoing sound of a clock tower on the grounds struck the time.

“My apologies,” Leonnie nodded after the last toll had struck, “but I must be off. Best of luck in your investigation.”

“You know,” Mercedes said, coming to stand beside Byleth in watching Leonnie leave, “I can’t quite tell if she likes you or not.”

Byleth’s hum to the affirmative was not enough of a response for Mercedes this time around. She glanced at her friend. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m not sure yet.” Byleth admitted. “Let us keep going. Maybe we will find Father Tomas and ascertain his intentions.”

In exiting the door in the east wall they entered the covered corridor they had walked before. With the light of day they could better see the gardens on either side of it - the one on their left including a large pond at a sort of courtyard made between multiple buildings. Again they were met with a familiar figure, this time of a brown haired man staring mournfully into the dark depths of the water. Before they could call out to him however Detective Rengeld was turning away and wiping at his eyes wearing a solemn expression. Byleth may have feared for the worst had it not been for the, albeit forced, smile that lightened his face when he recognized the girls.

“Miss Byleth, Miss Mercedes!” He greeted as he walked up to them at the walk. “What are you doing here?”

Not that she thought Mercedes would repeat her previous case of being a bit too honest, but Byleth still took the initiative to answer this time. “Father Tomas said we could visit the monastery’s library. We thought to take him up on the offer as soon as possible, in case it is one he may rescind given the time to think it over. Did you drop something in the pond, sir?”

“Ah-“ The Detective started as if he had to catch up to the shift in topic. He had been prepared to say something else before Byleth narrowly changed the entire direction they were headed. “No…”

He was holding his hat in his hands as he had that morning. Round and round it went in his palms, taking a full half turn of anxious wringing before he spoke. “No. There has been talk of the need to search it for - Miss Flayn, but I cannot bring myself to do so.”

Beside Byleth Mercedes made a sympathetic sound. That would indeed be a difficult task for one to do, and that it still affected the detective so belied that his years in the military and subsequent time on the police force had not rid him of such feelings. Some may call that weakness - but it made Byleth like him even more. Even still, there had been something said the night prior that bore repeating.

“Last night you said something to Miss Flayn. That Mr. Seteth did not much like you speaking to her too much. What did you mean by that?”

The look of shock from the detective soon gave way to understanding. He may have much kindness, but he had not risen to his position for nothing. “That sounds suspicious enough to make me a suspect in your eyes, Miss Eisner.”

“I do not wish you to stay one long, Detective. Please give me reason to believe otherwise.”

Detective Rengeld sighed, a long and tired sound. “Mr. Seteth has a lot of power and connection in both the police force and the military. But as soon as he began to bring Miss Flayn around, just in passing, he made it clear that he did not want her to have any close ties to said connections for herself. If she spoke too long to anyone from his work he always stepped in, saying a girl her age ought not know about such things. It’s not at all as if I spoke to her about my job though, I assure you. Whenever he came around to speak to the commissioner or someone I would try and keep her entertained while she waited on him. That’s all. She would always laugh at my jokes or tricks, even the ones others hate.”

By the end his eyes had turned sad and remorseful. He was remembering all of the time he had spent with Miss Flayn and became disheartened that he knew not where she was. Byleth did not like to see him in such a state, his head hung low and pain in his face. “Thank you, Detective,” she said, although she knew it brought the man no comfort.

That was where Mercedes’ talents lay. “Detective,” she said, voice soft as a mother soothing a child without seeming condescending, “there is still a chance that she may be found safe, if you and your men keep your faith. Many people are keeping Miss Flayn in their prayers and will surely come to you if they remember anything of note.”

“So I should keep my wits about me in the meantime,” the man finished with a shuddering inhale of emotion. In the following release of air his smile was a bit more genuine. “Thank you, ladies, I do appreciate your words. Do be safe on your way.” And with a polite bow he was off, a determined force in his steps.

“You handled that very gracefully,” Byleth said, touching Mercedes’ arm.

The blonde smiled. “You investigate - I understand. Should we try for the library next, to look for Father Tomas? And to better excuse our reason for being here.”

“Not quite yet, I think.” Byleth said as they continued down the corridor. It was a serene enough garden - clearly well cared for by the clergy there. When she stepped off the path to inspect specific plants she did not see anything that was of the particularly poisonous variety that Flayn could have unknowingly touched or been poisoned with on the fly.

Were there any old wells on the property she could be in? In this age any such things would have been long boarded up if not covered over, making them hard to find as an outsider without much knowledge of the daytime geography to the place. What about some secret rooms or passages? Most estates this large had something of the like. She could have discovered one and tripped down the stairs. Or she really could have been taken somewhere else and this was all for naught.

“Father Tomas,” Mercedes said in greeting, pulling Byleth from her beginning spiral. Sure enough, despite having chosen to not seek him out just yet, they had come upon the elder priest checking over vegetables in a small kitchen garden. By the time Byleth had come to Mercedes was helping the man straighten himself up from the crouching position they had found him in.

“My thanks, young miss,” the man smiled gratefully. “Now what are you two ladies doing here today?”

“We hoped we could take a look at the library, as you promised,” Mercedes said. Byleth was certain she had increased the sweetness of her tone to be more than usual.

The priest, however, held a small frown. “I would think after the disappearance of Miss Nabatean you would have been too frightened to come back.”

“Yes, we saw Miss Leonnie on our way in. She said you had been warning her to be safe and asking about Miss Flayn. But also about myself and my father.” Mercedes gave Byleth a bit of a shocked look, as if she were now the one saying things she ought not have. The girl did not bat an eye, however, and watched the priest resolutely for his answer.

Whatever slip in countenance she may have expected did not come. The man instead actually laughed. “I see, that must sound a bit suspicious to a young lady, hm? I was only asking after Miss Flayn because I have come to know Mr. Seteth over my years of employ here, and it was not until rather recently that he appeared with a younger sister I had never heard of. I thought mayhaps that had something to do with where she had gone. As for you and your father, Captain Eisner, I wondered at if he would rush home to protect a lone daughter if he was informed of this tragedy.”

“You are jumping to an awful lot of conclusions, Father.”

“That is the way of some of us, isn’t it?” The old man laughed, leveling a look at her that was hard to read. It was not as if he gave her time to decide. “Well, I am more than happy to show you the library. If you would allow me to take these vegetables to the kitchen and get them cleaned - I will be there as soon as I can to let you in. You girls are more than welcome to continue looking about in the mean time. Just try not to get in the way of whatever the police are doing, hm?”

“Father, one more thing if you don’t mind.” Byleth was not finished just yet.

The Priest seemed cordial enough, turning back to her with the same enigmatic smile. “Yes?”

“The rooms near the library, are we going to be disturbing the police in there?”

“No dear, they have no offices in that building as of now.” He waved a worn hand. “They are mostly storage at the moment in fact. It will be nice and quiet for you.”

“Very good. Thank you, father.”

Much like with Leonnie, they waited until he was out of earshot to speak. “That was odd,” Byleth said, already beginning to continue their walk through the grounds.

“I believe you made it odd, Byleth,” with a small nudge at her elbow with her own from Mercedes.

“Something about the things he said, or the way he looked I’m not sure which, made me uneasy…” Byleth trailed off shortly. “But it could be my imagination running away with me.”

Mercedes tilted her head up to inspect her friend sidelong. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

“No, not really.”

They fell silent for a few moments as they walked. Byleth was reminded of her father describing the churches on Kingdom soil being dark, drafty places. Of the monastery’s buildings she had seen thus far she found the sentiment to be a partial truth. Many of the church buildings had broad, open walkways with tall and thin openings with pointed arches. The further the girls walked from the buildings likely to be open to the public, the more vines and less trimmed bushes were allowed to climb up the walls and into the arched windows. It was all so romantic. At one point she spied a low bench through one of the windows and attempted to remind herself of the location, so she may hopefully be able to read there in the future.

“I wonder where the police and militia headquarters are, if not in the library building…”

Mercedes tilted her head. She did not seem to have minded the spot of silence that had precluded this, and instead launched once more unto their investigation. “Yes, did you ask that for any specific reason?”

“I thought the man we saw in passing there was in uniform…” Byleth trailed off. She should have asked the detective about him. It was a bit of a stretch, but there was a small chance he may recognize her description of the man if the police and militia interacted enough around the grounds of the monastery that they shared. The mask certainly was a distinctive enough trait. Or perhaps there was someone else…

“We should try and find Captain Charon.” Byleth announced as she nodded firmly.

“That was speaking to the detective last night?” Mercedes asked.

“The very one.”

It did not take much effort to locate where on the grounds the militia had set up base. Across a field that may have at one time been used for livestock was a set of buildings with a number of training dummy’s set up before them. Many people in uniform were practicing maneuvers in the surrounding spanse. There was a table along the way with pens, sheets of paper beneath a rock, and pouches for dispatches. With a single glance around for anyone watching Byleth swiped a piece of paper and folded it to be slid into one of the smaller pouches. Mercedes gaze was trained on each othe men too much to have noticed. Was she looking for the man in the mask?

The girls found a familiar blonde woman practicing at a shooting range off to the side of an old barn. They both knew to keep a fair number of paces behind the line and simply wait for her to finish the round. Besides, it gave them ample time to watch Catherine Charon at work. Her hair was again pulled into a neat ponytail at the backside of her head. Although not near as nice an outfit as they had witnessed her in before, she was apparently often given to wear trousers. Perhaps she had plans to ride later, as these were the tighter fit pants and high riding boots than most casual wear. If Byleth were to guess she would say that Catherine much preferred hand to hand combat or at least not the kind that included firearms. While she was methodical in her loading, the small  _ tsk _ -ing sound she made at the end of each round led her to believe that a six-round cylinder was still not enough action for in between required rests to re-load.

After the third round following their arrival Catherine placed the revolver on the long table from which she shot and turned around. “Ladies, what can I help you with?” Even with the sounds of her own gunfire she had noticed their approach from behind. No wonder she had made it so far through the ranks.

“We attended the ball here last night. There was a man in the militia uniform we passed last night. It appeared he dropped something in the hall but he had already gone by the time we realized.” Byleth lied with relative ease, presenting the pouch she had recently taken. “We looked for a name or address but there was none to be had. I do recall something of his appearance though.”

As she listened the woman leaned onto the table with one elbow. Were the raised eyebrows because she was impressed? Or was she only sizing up the two girls before her? “How kind of you. What did this man look like? There is a good chance I will know him.”

“He had light hair in a long ponytail. Perhaps a half a head taller than I. And he wore a white mask over his eyes and forehead.” Byleth answered. She could likely have given more information, the nature of his gait and what it told her, the immaculate state of his uniform, but such things were a bit too on point when one was attempting to appear a member of the concerned and ‘simple’ citizenry.

A snort of understanding from Catherine’s nostrils. Just as Byleth had thought, it was a distinctive enough appearance without her extra observations. “That would be Jeritza, he is one of our sword instructors. If he has misplaced something that may explain why he has been acting so strange.”

“Is he here? Perhaps we could return it ourselves,” Byleth asked, casting her eyes about as if she and Mercedes both had not already surveyed the field for any sign of him.

Catherine shook her head. “I am afraid he is not. He put in a request to have a couple days off for holiday.”

“How unfortunate,” Mercedes murmured. A throwaway sort of response that gave Byleth a brief pause. She had been so quiet up until then. Why?

“Catherine, if you do not mind my asking one more thing? It might sound a bit strange.” Byleth asked as she handed over the would-be lost pouch.

“Of course not, miss.” Catherine smiled cordially.

“Is Mr. Jeritza much for reading?”

That was not at all within the realm of what Catherine had expected. She had to stop and ponder the thought for a moment. “Not that I know of. Although he does tend to keep to himself, a trait one does usually associate with those that enjoy reading. But I can’t say I’ve ever seen him with a book in hand.”

“Thank you for your help, Captain,” Byleth curtsied in gratitude, Mercedes doing the same before they departed for the library.

It was nearing the end of spring, a few hold out butterflies lazily fluttering across their path as they walked down an old brick path that led to the main buildings of the monastery. And yet Mercedes, usually so attentive to the wonders around her, had downcast eyes.

Byleth gently touched at her friend’s elbow. “Are you alright, Mercedes?”

Although she was not outwardly shocked by the gesture, as the distance in her eyes would have made Byleth guess she would be, the smile Mercedes then bore was only half-present. “Something about that man in the mask makes me uneasy, Byleth. But… The way Professor Hanneman continued to try and lead Miss Flayn into talking about Crests, no matter how much she politely declined or changed the subject. That was also disconcerting. Oh but - I do not want to think poorly of him-“

“But you believe he may have cornered her for some tests or other.” Byleth finished the thought. “That is a very good observation. As cryptic as some of his words earlier may have been, it would not hurt to ask Father Tomas about him.”

And yet again their suspect had an alibi to be delivered by another party. “Professor Hanneman said he would be leaving quite early for a conference this morning,” Father Tomas remembered as he slid a book into place on one of the many tall, ancient shelves of his library. Were they in a book Byleth was certain there would be a puff of dust billowing out from the insertion - but it seemed in reality Father Tomas and the other priests were better caretakers then those in literature. “This was why after you ladies left for the show he did not spent a long time here with me. He said he would have to retire so as to be up in time for his train.”

“How convenient…” So not only was the military man that had no obvious reason to be in the building that night and took a notable look at Miss Flayn on holiday, but so too was the Professor of Crests that had been none too subtly hinting an interest in studying her nature? But Byleth was not wholly deterred. “Father, could you help me locate a few things specifically? A copy of the Peerage, a history of the Crests as related to the Church, and some maps of the monasteries grounds and buildings?”

Father Tomas hummed thoughtfully once he had climbed down from the ladder. “I could point you ladies in the direction of the first two, Miss Eisner, but it would take me some time to locate the latter.”

Byleth shook her head at the man’s apologetic tone. It was no trouble. “Oh, that is fine. It will give us time to check together.”

The copy of the Peerage was easy enough to find, even if it was a bit outdated. A fairly basic explanation of Crests and their history was a bit difficult to find, however, and the girls ended up with a total of five books spread out across a long table of the library for them to pour over. “I may not have the most historically accurate or scientific understanding, but I know enough about Crests as I believe most common people do Byleth. Why do we need these?” Mercedes gestured to the pile of historical texts.

“I have been out of the country most of my life, in places where Crests do not hold near as much sway over society as they do elsewhere, especially not here in the capital. I could do with a bit more understanding.” Her father had never cared much about including such things in her education. Noting his disinterest, Byleth had thusly tended to zone out in favor of more interesting topics inside her mind whenever they came up in the few tutor-led lessons she had growing up. “While I try and brush up on the topic myself, could you look for Miss Flayn in the Peerage? I believe I remember her finally telling the Professor that she has a Major Crest of Cethaleen.”

Perhaps they had pulled too many different tomes for her to look over. Normally one that enjoyed study, Byleth found herself unable to focus for as long a period as her usual. She kept glancing in the direction Father Tomas had gone to search for the plans and maps, or deciding to change to a different book that may have something better to keep her interest, only to end up finding the next just as incomprehensible.

Somewhere in between the religious aspects of the royalty being blessed with certain Crests that made them the blessed chosen, and the more scientific concepts of the different elemental leanings of Crests placed on a map of the Kingdom to showcase population densities, she found her eyes no longer swimming amongst the stark lines of words but instead staring off into the colorful haze of a window. It was stained glass in the image of a woman angel, white wings spread out behind her and long flowing golden hair. The faint dust of the library no amount of cleaning could clear danced in the light the sun cast through the window, making it a colored mist of twinkling air for Byleth to follow with her eyes. At the end it fell upon none other than Mercedes.

Her hair appeared almost white in the geometric shapes of direct sunlight, while it was cast in swirling bits of red in others. She was reading so intently she did not seem to notice or care about the colors falling onto the open pages of her book. Brows were slightly furrowed in concentration while her eyes trailed side to side in an uninterrupted sequence. A noise from outside, a bird hitting a seed against a stone walk to crack it, broke her trance. She looked up and met Byleth’s eyes - a pink not found in the stained glass scene coloring her cheeks as they spread into a smile. “What?”

“Nothing at all,” Byleth hummed, allowing herself just the barest moment more of serenity. Only that, though. They were already spending too long on their search for clues. “What have you found so far?”

“For starters,” Mercedes said, looking down once more and flipping to a page she had been place-keeping with a finger, “do you remember Father Tomas saying he had not known Mr. Seteth had a sister until quite recently? This edition is seven years old, and yet Miss Flayn is nowhere to be found. I started searching by Crest, as you suggested. There are few others with a Major Crest of Cethleann, a handful in the south. Or at least there were seven years ago. I then looked by family tree and was able to find Mr. Seteth - but again, nothing of Miss Flayn. According to this edition he was an only child. But Miss Flayn is much older than seven years old.”

“We can’t be sure until we consult a more recent edition that she may have appeared in,” Byleth thought aloud, “but a girl just appearing out of nowhere, holding a relatively rare Crest… would certainly be interesting to Professor Hanneman.” 

“Perhaps too much to resist.” Mercedes finished, meeting Byleth’s eyes.

Their concentration on one another was broken by Father Tomas appearing - with notably empty arms. “Very strange and - honestly disconcerting,” he admitted, his face drawn into worried confusion. “But all of the plans or maps of the monastery are gone. Nor do I have any notes of who might have taken them.”

“Are there often people in the library when you are not present?” Mercedes posed.

The priest shook his head, “It is locked if I or my assistant are not here.”

“What about last night?” Byleth asked. “Was Professor Hanneman in your sight the entire time you were both here, after we left for the show?”

Father Tomas understood where this line of questioning was going and paused to think. “I suppose I told him where our historical texts on Crests were and allowed him to look around while I straightened a few things.”

“And a military man, Jeritza, wears a mask?” Asked Byleth. “Is he here often?”

“I don’t believe I ever saw him,” he shook his head, “not until this very week.”

“We have two possible suspects, but neither are supposed to be here… Do you think we should tell Detective Rengeld?” Mercedes asked as they began to leave the grounds. The light was beginning to dim in the sky. They had been gone the better part of the afternoon.

And with little to show for it in the grand scheme of things. Byleth shook her head. “No, it is not enough to do anything but make us appear as silly girls. We are no closer to finding Miss Flayn.”

When she felt a warm touch to her shoulder Byleth looked up, her eyes meeting Mercedes gentle gaze. “All is not lost. Let us think on it at home, consult what we can, and meet again tomorrow morning. At the same tea room.”

In returning home finally it was already dinner time in the Eisner household. Byleth felt quite blessed to have such a thoughtful and efficient staff that she had a warm meal waiting for her when she arrived home. Even more so that they did not take even a second glance at the young lady spreading out her copy of the Peerage, paper, and pen alongside her plate to work whilst she ate. Not the most lady-like of ways in which to spend her meal but as she was alone at the table and never much for many lady-like mannerisms, but there she was. She was just beginning a third page when Mr. Lindel stepped into the dining room.

“A Mr.Seteth to see you, miss,” he was barely able to announce before just the man stepped into the doorway.

“My apologies, Miss Eisner, for interrupting your meal like this.” He still held his hat in one hand and his walking cane in the other. The man was harried, face a mess of anxiety. Byleth could not at all fault him for it and gestured that he may sit. 

“I offer my condolences for what you are going through, sir,” Byleth said as her plates were taken away in favor of tea for her and her seated guest. Mr. Lindel and Jenny both know of the situation and had more sympathy for Mr. Seteth than to suggest they move to the parlor to talk. “I cannot even imagine what you are feeling.”

“I appreciate it,” the man sighed, hanging his cane from the arm of his chair. He stared into his steaming cup of tea as it was served, looking haggard all the while. It was likely that he had not slept. “I was told that you were asking questions at the monastery today, and that Detective Rengeld visited you this morning to take your statement…”

Now Seteth looked up to meet her eyes, his first time doing so since arriving. His expression was desperate - a weakness she had not believed him at all willing to show to others in her first meeting of him. “If there is anything that you find to assist in finding my Flayn…”

Attempting to channel Mercedes as much as she could Byleth spoke in a soft, encouraging voice.“I will report it immediately, I promise you.”

As if coming a tad into his former self Mr. Seteth released a breath and straightened himself in his chair. He pointedly looked at her papers on the table. “I see you have notes. Did you make any discoveries today?”

“Sir, I do not want to get your hopes up-“

“Tell me what you have found.”

A deep breath. He believed that with that tone and the direness of the situation she would relinquish all she had. The fact that with each passing hour Flayn either moved further away or was in more danger of never being found was not lost on her, and Byleth hoped she had made that clear but… even still. She shifted the papers closer to her and further from his eyes, placing them in a pile before her with her hand atop. “All I have so far is conjecture. It would not do for you to attempt to make any move, possibly tipping off whoever knows of her whereabouts in the process. I am sorry but - I cannot in good faith tell you at this time. All I can tell you is if I find anything closer to definite evidence - I will turn it over immediately.”

The harsh sliding of Mr. Seteth’s chair as he stood was loud enough to bring Mr. Lindel into the doorway. “I could have been spending this time with the police or out looking for her myself-but instead I have to listen to this… You really refuse to tell me what you know?” He slammed his hands on the table, Mr. Lindel advancing a step into the room in case he needed to halt an altercation. At the shake of Byleth’s head Mr. Lindel stood down - and Mr. Seteth scoffed. “After the praise Flayn had for your intellect I had hoped… but no. I was mistaken. As was she.”

Following Mr. Seteth’s departure Byleth sat in the dining room for some time. She sat with her hands neatly folded in her lap and stared out the window so long her neck would surely be sore the following morning. But she did not notice nor did she care. Strangely enough it was Mrs. Foster that entered to check on her.

“Seems ‘at Mr. Seteth left in quite the huff.” Mrs. Foster stated as she sat in the chair nearest Byleth. There was narry a care for etiquette in the way Mrs. Foster so unceremoniously came down into the chair nor in the way she addressed Byleth. As much as she read the society papers - she clearly had no time for such things.

“I cannot fault him for it,” Byleth breathed into the turning of her head. Now she looked over all of the notes again spread before her. Was it all for naught? “His beloved little sister is missing.”

Mrs. Foster only scoffed. “But that i’nt your fault, miss, not by any means of the imagination.”

“Perhaps not,” Byleth admitted, although there was no somberness lost in her tone. “And yet I thought I could do something to change the situation. Find out where she was or - at least why she left, had it been of her own accord.”

“You can be like a dog with a bone when yer onto somethin’ you wanna get figured out,” the cook chortled with such real enjoyment that Byleth looked up at her. Mrs. Foster must have been in her late forties by then, the hard lines across her face and the wisps of gray hair sticking out from her bun after a full day of work alluding to a not so easy life. Even with her blunt words, however, Byleth could see that a good portion of the wrinkles on the woman’s face were from laughing, smiling.

“I do not think that has won me any favors here, Mrs. Foster, in this particular situation.” Byleth could not look directly at Mrs. Foster when she said this. She laughed herself as she spoke, although more ruefully. “I have gotten no closer to Miss Flayn’s safety nor her whereabouts. And I seem to have given false hope to those close to her by even attempting it.”

There came a small tutting sound for such a response. “So you’re just gonna roll over and stop doin’ anythin’, is that it? Like a meek little stray dog that’s ‘ad rocks thrown at it?”

“I prefer cats,” Byleth mumbled. It sounded like the reply of a child even out of her own mouth.

“A stray cat, then,” Mrs. Foster flagged an annoyed hand in Byleth’s direction. “Doesn’t change my meanin’ none. You’ll just give up on that girl because it’s been one day and ‘er brother gets a bit miffed at ya?”

“I am not a detective, Mrs. Foster.” Shoulders sagged at the weight of this confession. Had she truly believed she had a chance where others were failing? Others like Detective Rengeld, with years of experience under his belt. Or Mr. Seteth with all of the resources in the world practically at his fingertips. Every passing day put Miss Flayn in more danger, one way or another, and Byleth could simply be muddying the waters for all those that had an actual chance at finding her. Even her father told her she had a tendency to meddle when her curiosity was piqued. “My formal schooling has been parse at best. What could I hope to do with how little I have to show for it so far?” She placed one hand on the table, atop one of the few full pages of notes.

“Ay, ye may not be as trained as them police, but ‘alf of what they know came from the job rather than the classroom or the books, and you read plenty of those by the by.” Warmth encompassed her fingers. Mrs. Foster had placed her larger, rougher hand over hers. When Byleth met her eyes - they were warmer still. “Us serving folk will be loyal to our employers for bigger holiday bonuses, a better letter of recommendation down the road, ‘tis all true. But why do ye think we all look out for you so, Miss Byleth, or talk to ye so much when we ‘ave work to do? Because you’ve only been ‘ere for a short time and you’ve already done more for us than most would. When Jenny lost ‘er mothers necklace you looked this house top to bottom for it, even without ‘er there to see or ‘elp. You worked at it for days, askin’ where she was when she last ‘ad it, what all she had done that day.”

In squeezing Byleth’s hand and tilting her chin down to look at her Mrs. Foster was attempting to get her point across more firmly. “Most people would not ‘ave given two shits about a maids lost necklace, even less would’ve spent that much time lookin’ for it.”

“But it was her mothers,” Byleth tried to say, “and it only took me two days.”

The way that Mrs. Foster barked out a laugh and threw her head back Byleth felt her shoulders jump at the sudden volume of it. “Ay, two whole days on one necklace, and you wanna give up when ye can’t find a whole girl after a single afternoon?”

Something about this old cook’s look of bemusement, or how strong her laugh was, or how much she cared to sit and comfort her when she should very well be on her way home… made Byleth at once feel very silly - and very blessed. She began to laugh too. “Thank you, Mrs. Foster.”

The hug that Byleth gave Mrs. Foster before she left for the night brought on another surprised laugh. And the assurance that Byleth would be dining out the following morning, so Mrs. Foster was asked to stay home and sleep in as long as she would like, earned a warm smile. Still, Byleth felt these were paltry in comparison to the renewed spirit the cook had given her. She told herself to purchase the cake from a well known bakery she had heard Mrs. Foster mention enjoying for a sisters birthday.

While she was not the first customer at the tea room the next morning, Byleth was one of only a few patrons. A couple of workers taking a quick breakfast, what appeared to be some elderly women talking about their quilting projects. As she waited she laid her notes out on the table.

_ Flayn Nabatean. Missing. Major Crest of Cethleann. Not found in Peerage 7 years past. _

_ Jeritza. Military man. Seen in the library building, stared at Flayn, makes Mercedes uneasy. Because she recognizes him? Or only the mask? On holiday. _

_ Professor Hanneman. Crest expert. Attempted to question Flayn but was rejected. Left for conference. _

_ Father Tomas. Had not heard of Flayn from Seteth. Asking about her as well as myself and father. _

_ Also to be noted: plans of monastery missing. Indication of attempts to hide her on the property? _

“Miss Eisner?” It was not clear to Byleth how much she ached to see Mercedes, to be given some sort of advice or kind word, until she cast a quick and hopeful glance up - and found it to be not her at all. It was Dorothea that had spoken, standing over the seated Byleth.

Rather than the red velvet dress of their first meeting, Dorothea was fashioned a bit more practically if a bit somberly now. She wore a smart black and gold traveling outfit including a matching black cap. Unease settled deeper in Byleth’s gut - there was little relief in Dorothea’s eyes in seeing an acquaintance. Rather she appeared tired. “Miss Dorothea, are you alright?”

Despite herself Dorothea actually laughed. It was not polite to make comments on another woman’s health. “I look that bad, huh?” Either she was too exhausted to care or this was her normal level of sarcasm and wit. Byleth did not know her enough to tell.

For how little they had spoken, Dorothea felt comfortable enough to then let out a sigh and seat herself at Byleth’s table. She began telling her tale, munching on one of the biscuits Byleth ordered but had yet left untouched. “Manuela has been acting so strange ever since her performance for Miss Flayn’s ball. At first I thought it was worry over Miss Flayn - but it is not as if she knew her that well. Not to sound unsympathetic, but you hear sad stories all the time in theater. That is somewhat the point.”

“But her behavior continued to seem strange?” Byleth asked, before adding, “beyond what you understood?”

“Yes. And she was missing lessons, rehearsals.” Dorothea had been lathering another biscuit with the raspberry jam also at the table and now pointed the butter knife at Byleth. “You know she was not feeling well after her performance? We were offered a room for the night in the monastery. I’ve seen her miss rehearsal for real hangovers - but this was different. She’s normally more melodramatic, even depressed. Even after we left she said she kept making excuses that she needed to go back. She forgot something, there was a question she needed to ask.”

This was all very odd. Byleth thought while Dorothea finished her biscuit, trying to search for the possible explanations. By the time Dorothea was dabbing the crumbs from her cheek Byleth had decided she did not have enough information and posed another question, one that settled like thick soup in her belly. Too thick. “It was right after she sang that she started acting this way?”

“That is what I’m saying.” The rise in her volume caused a few heads to turn. Dorothea did not mind the glances of fellow patrons, however, and did wave an apologetic hand to Byleth with a sigh. “Sorry, sorry, I know you’re only trying to understand. I can’t think of any reason or anything that happened why she would be acting so odd, no. But it only gets weirder. She ran off holding a mask, one I know hasn’t been used for anything we’ve ever put on.”

This time it was Byleth’s turn to garner the attention of others - by the loud clacking of her coffee cup hitting the table. “What did the mask look like?”

Dorothea looked at her strangely for such an outburst. Why did such details matter? “It was white, with a flash of gold somewhere on it I think…”

The room felt cold to Byleth all of a sudden. “And was she going to the monastery?”

“When I tried to run after her I heard her telling the cab to head there, yes…”

All in one motion Byleth had stood and taken up her parasol hanging from the chair arm. She was already starting for the door. “We have to leave. Now. Manuela is in danger.”

That got Dorothea’s attention. “What? Why?” The performer asked as she trailed after Byleth

There was a secondary worry ripping through Byleth’s heart, however. “You go to the monastery first, see if you can find her before she’s done anything alone. I need to find Mercedes, and then I will meet you there.”

Outside Dorothea stopped and took Byleth by the arm to stop her advance. “You’re not making any sense, why do you need to get Mercedes if Manuela is in danger?” There was no feasible reason that she had to explain why Byleth would go and visit a friend when she believed Dorothea’s close friend, her mentor, to be in danger.

Byleth could not blame Dorothea for being angry. She would have been too, had their roles been switched. But as it was - there was Mercedes. “Because she may be too.”

Of all the times she had faced down a wild animal, or stood alone at a social event while others commented on her strange behavior within very clear earshot, Byleth had never felt her pulse run this quickly. No matter how urgent she insisted it was to her driver the ride to the Ferguson residence did not seem to go any faster. She had to know that Mercedes was safe… If the mention of her unease about the man in the mask had been overheard, or if she had spoken of it to someone else… If she told her damned father and he went to the police… With a now maskless Jeritza ‘on holiday.’...

“Is Mercedes home?” Byleth panted at the door when it was answered by the butler. 

She must have been quite the sight, having jumped from the still moving carriage to pound on the door, the hem of her dress was wet from the ill-aimed leap. The upright man with a mustache had yet to fully open the door in speaking to her and continued to give her a barely hidden look of incredulousness. “And who may I ask-“

“Byleth?” The suspicious question from the man before her eyes was washed away by that familiar, angelic voice. “Mr. Herbert, please, let her in.”

There she was. As the butler stepped aside and allowed the door to open Byleth was met with the knee-shakingly relieving sight of Mercedes standing in the entrance hall. She wore her hair down when at home. How lovely. Without a care for how it may look to either the butler or people in the street Byleth rushed in to tightly embrace her friend. “I was so worried,” she breathed.

“I am so sorry I could not meet you, Byleth-“ Mercedes began, attempting to sooth her friend by rubbing at her back.

“That is not it,” Byleth shook her head strongly, stepping back to look Mercedes in the eye while still holding at her arms. “I believe the military man Jeritza is the one who took Miss Flayn. Manuela guessed it too, I know not how, and left for the monastery. We need to hurry there ourselves. There is no time-“

“Miss Eisner, then.” It was not the same disbelieving tone as he had used before, but the butler’s voice was still unnervingly closed off. “Shall I tell her, Miss Mercedes, or will you?”

“Mr. Herbert, our friends are in danger,” Mercedes spoke more firmly than the man had expected. His eyes widened at her movements to take up a coat.

There was no attempt to put hands on her, but he did step in close to bodily put himself between her and Byleth. This was also between her and the door. “As true as that may be, Miss Mercedes, you know what your father said.”

Mercedes gave the man a determined shake of her head. Understanding for his position shown in her eyes, and so too did her unwillingness to stop her chosen course. “I will try and convince him otherwise later. If I cannot do that - then I will bear the consequences.” Looking the picture of strength, Mercedes turned to Byleth when she finished buttoning her coat. “Let’s go to the monastery.”

Despite the circumstances of their quick chase Byleth was unable to keep from questioning Mercedes on their ride to the monastery. “What in the world did all of that mean?” 

Having been watching the streets fly by in the small window, Mercedes had to take a deep breath before she met Byleth’s hard gaze. “Will you allow me to tell you after?”

For one heartbeat more Byleth watched Mercedes. She took in the squaring of her shoulders. Was it to face the possible fate of Flayn Nabatean, the violence that could ensue, or whatever the mentioned consequences were? At that present moment Byleth could not tell. But she could decide to trust Mercedes. “I will.”

It was the first time since she had seen her that day that Mercedes smiled at Byleth. “Thank you, Byleth.”

“Now don’t be alarmed,” Byleth stated then as she bent over her skirt, “I do this to all of my clothes. One really does never know what sort of activities they will be required to accomplish and when.”

Perplexed, Mercedes watched as her friend revealed the false nature of her outfit. The blue overskirt she wore pinched and ruffled up at her front from it’s full calf-length at her back over the small bustle. The black underskirt underneath appeared to have cord drawn lengthwise at two points, on either side of her legs. This allowed for her to pull the cord and bunch up the deceptively thinner material, creating an almost boxed opening to reveal her black stocking legs to the mid-thigh. “It makes it so much easier to run… and fight if required.”

Despite the faint blush Mercedes gave - it was highly unusual and scandalous to be showing that amount of leg outside certain situations - she appeared impressed. Byleth decided to believe it was towards both her ingenuity and the state of her legs.

By the time they reached the monastery it had begun to rain heavily, shrouding the tops of the cathedral and other taller buildings on the estate. Any figures they might see walking about would look dark and ominous without any stretch of the imagination. In exiting first Byleth extended her parasol above them. It would provide little protection and most certainly require replacement after - but now was not the time to worry about such things. She and Mercedes shared one look on the wet cobblestones before they were running towards the looming black shapes amongst all of the muddled gray.

While they did not expect her to be sitting around waiting for them in the cathedral, the girls entered there first simply because there appeared to be a few dim lights from within. Perhaps someone had seen Dorothea or Manuela and could point them in the direction they had gone. Instead they found it to be as empty and silent as a coffin - eerily so considering the downpour coming from outside.

Silence that was then cut through by the knife’s edge of a scream in the distance. Automatically Mercedes looked to Byleth, about to ask if she had heard it too, before there came another piercing shriek. Their boots clacked against the marble floor until they were splashing across soaked grass outside. In her heart Byleth knew, before it’s shape became entirely visible, that they were headed towards the library that they were headed.

“Dorothea!” Mercedes called to a flash of brown hair disappearing into the building a couple of paces ahead of them.

“That was Manuela, I know it was!” Dorothea cried back as she raced up the stairs to a familiar hall. Byleth’s eyes immediately went to the door she remembered Jeritza exiting from. It was ajar.

Dorothea sucked in such air as if to scream when she pushed the door open to find none other than Manuela on the floor, lain on her front with a knife sticking from it. Dorothea was on her knees, hands shaking. “What do we-do I take it out? What should we do? Is she alive?”

Mercedes was the one to bend down and check the woman’s pulse. “She is alive. You need to run and find the police, a priest, anyone to get help.” In the face of crisis she spoke clearly. Dorothea nodded, giving her mentor one last look before running back out the door.

Mercedes looked to see Byleth investigating the room, the picture of determination even as her soaked hair dripped into her face. The space was used for storage, that much was obvious by the sheets hanging from different large odds and ends. Crates, statues, bits of furniture. Dust added an extra thin layer to the sheets. However the room received enough traffic that she could not make out any specific footprints or signs of struggle on the floor. It did not appear as if Manuela was dragged there from a different location, as there was no blood trail. However…

“She is pointing at something.” Byleth announced. The woman’s hand was positioned with her index finger out, the rest of her hand folded if only partially. When she followed the line of her hand… it led to a bookcase against a wall. Byleth stepped over to kneel before it - noting that the threadbare rug in front of it was folded over at the corner nearest the shelf. Before Mercedes could move to stop her, Byleth was standing and stepping to the side of the shelf. She put all of her weight into the side of it to make the piece slide across the floor. And behind it, just as she had predicted, there was a small landing with a row of stone stairs leading down into inky blackness. There was no doubt it had been used recently by the still wet mud caked against the first step’s edge.

“What in the world?” Dorothea had returned with two priests. Their expressions were enough to tell Byleth that they were unaware of this secret passage.

“You’re not going down there, are you?” Mercedes stood, allowing the priests to begin gingerly moving Manuela.

Byleth was not to be swayed. She slid off one of the cleanest sheets to make quick work of drying only her face and her hair. “I have to believe that this is connected to Miss Flayn. There is no time to waste if it is.”

“But whoever attacked Manuela could be - probably is down there!”

Byleth retrieved her parasol that had been leaned against the now bare crate. She placed both hands on the handle, pressed her thumb against a notch, and slid the umbrella portion away to reveal a thin blade. “One must always be prepared.”

“I’m going with you,” Mercedes insisted.

“Dorothea, take care of Manuela. Make sure the police know what has occurred here. Backup would be nice if at all possible,” Byleth said, taking up a lantern from atop a nearby table. Mercedes did not bother questioning why she had a box of matches in a pocket of her skirt, instead taking them and the lantern. Thank heavens they had not been soaked through in Byleth’s skirt by the rain. With the lantern lit - the girls descended into the darkness.

Their heels echoed against the old stone steps. It was a narrow passageway that whirled around a couple times in an unnervingly disorienting manner. Were they going into a basement beneath the building they had entered, or heading into something below ground that was completely unknown? Byleth believed it to be the former but - she could not be sure. Eventually light other than that of their lantern could be seen below them, making Byleth then whisper to Mercedes to blow out their lantern. They needed every chance at secrecy they could get. Byleth could not keep from smiling when Mercedes finished the task only to hold the lantern above her head - a makeshift weapon. Byleth too readied her blade before they finished their descent to the landing below.

Their vision uponed up to a dimly lit room with a low, curved stone ceiling. There was a single lit lantern sitting on a simple wooden table to illuminate the space. Haphazardly spread beside the lantern were large slips of paper with neatly geometric shapes that Byleth could not fully make out - but would guess were the missing plans of the grounds. The back of the room was shrouded in shadow, masking the true depth of it. Opposite the table were two immobile bodies laid over old quilts, their hands and ankles tied with rope. Byleth continued to scan the room while Mercedes kneeled to check the pulse of Miss Flayn and this unknown girl. A nod to her friend said that they were both alive. In a quick glance Byleth could not see any obvious injuries done to either of the victims. Had they been drugged?

“So you have arrived.” Byleth’s eyes shot up to the darkness at the back of the room. Like a demon stepping straight out of hell and into the world of the living a form simply… emerged out of it like it were a membrane. The illusion was only intensified by the black mask of a skull with horns rising out of it’s forehead. Red lens eyes that reflected the light of the lantern back to make them appear a light source all their own.

Mercedes was standing but Byleth held a hand out to keep her friend at her back, pointing her blade at the villain. Really, how stereotypical could one get? “Who are you?” Byleth demanded. “Why did you take Miss Flayn and this girl?”

The figure laughed. Byleth’s eyes narrowed. It was a low tone but - she had heard of the different tricks used to alter one’s voice. “Byleth Eisner. You ask too many questions.”

“Answer her,” Mercedes insisted. What remaining laughter there was from the masked form died when she spoke.

Instead the figure lunged forward, drawing a blade so quickly Byleth was barely able to block the attack. The power in that hand was immense… Byleth distantly regretted not keeping up with her training since coming to the capital. She planted her feet on the ground - mind racing with the knowledge that her measily parasol-sized blade would not withstand long against the true sword wielded against it.

The dark figure, clad in a large black cloak, stepped back to prepare for another swing. It slid a foot ahead of the other, taking a stance Byleth scrambled to recognize the style of-

“Stop.” Called a second voice, halting the figure quite literally in it’s tracks. “You have already played for too long.” This tone was also low but smoother than the gravel in the attacker’s - who spoke as if they were always on the precipice of a growl.

The masked person did not seem entirely pleased by this order, as she gathered by the long look it gave her before disappearing back into the darkness. It was the second voice that spoke again in a receding whisper. “Now that you have met my Death Knight, I wonder what you think of Those Who Slither in the Dark, Miss Eisner. Do tell me should we have the pleasure of meeting again.”

By the time the police had arrived in the basement there was no sign of the figure in the mask nor of the second voice. But Byleth had expected that to be the case - and in the end she was just happy that they had found Flayn. The unconscious girl was brought into a spare room of the police’s headquarters and was just beginning to come to when Mr. Seteth arrived. Mercedes and Byleth exited the room to allow them a moment of reunion. Detective Alois was waiting to speak to them in the hall outside.

“I’m not above telling you ladies that being shown up won’t make me look good,” the Detective admitted to them in a conspiratorial voice. Then he winked, “but I wouldn’t expect much less from Captain Eisner’s child, even if I wish you would have waited for us before charging in yourselves.”

It had not occurred to her until that moment… but Byleth had hoped Detective Rengeld would not think ill of her after this. “I did not want to take the chance of them moving Flayn in case they were going to run after Manuela caught on.” She said, hoping to excuse herself enough for whatever reservation he may still have. “How is she, by the way?”

The man nodded with a reassuring smile. “Doing quite well.”

“And what about the other girl?” Mercedes asked. She had been combing her fingers through the soaked and knotted braid before beginning to do it over now.

“She came to a bit before Miss Flayn. Her name is Monika - but that is about all she can remember. There is some hope that with rest more of her memories will come back so we may find her family.” Rengeld shook his head. It was a terrible business - nor did he have to say that with amnesia that was one less witness for him to get the story from. “Both of them were drugged pretty heavily.”

“Miss Eisner? Miss Ferguson?” Seteth said, stepping out of the room.

The three turned to face him. “Is she alright?” Mercedes asked.

Mr. Seteth nodded. The bags under his eyes were still present, but there was an immense relief amidst his exhaustion. “She is, thank you.” Here he paused to gather himself. Briefly his expression returned to one of pain as he searched for the words. “I… cannot express my gratitude to you. It does not bear thinking about what would have happened had you not found her.”

“Sir, your sister is alive and safe now,” Mercedes assured him. Her voice was soft in speaking to this man years her senior. “Do not make yourself suffer more than you already have by picturing the alternative,”

“You are right, Miss Ferguson, thank you.” Mr. Seteth released the distraught breath he had been holding. With that he was able to put on a smile in straightening his posture to again face them. “In any case, she said she wanted to speak to you.”

Mirroring the sound conclusion of such a frightening situation the weather had cleared so that the image of Flayn as Mr. Seteth opened the door for Byleth and Mercedes was one of peace. Noonday sunlight poured through a window to cover her frame in a warm blanket of gold. She was sitting up in the bed, pale green hair recently brushed and face clean of the mud and dust that had littered her skin before. Apart from a few superficial scratches on her cheeks and arms she appeared to only be tired from her ordeal. Any ache or exhaustion on Byleth’s part melted away, however, when the girl smiled at them so.

“Miss Byleth, Miss Mercedes,” she greeted, holding out her hands to the both of them. Byleth took her place at the right of the bed, while Mercedes stood in the wake of the sun at the left. They each took one of her hands in theirs. “You were both so very brave. I will always be in your debt.” In the aftermath of being drugged and a kidnap victim Byleth had expected tears. Instead she found the burning strength of a star in this seemingly innocent young girl. She squeezed Flayn’s hand.

After many thanks and insistences of their own safety Mercedes and Byleth were both provided chairs to sit beside their friend. Even if she heard Mr. Seteth’s sharp inhale in response - Byleth had to ask. “What do you remember, Flayn?”

While she was not as shocked by the question as her brother Flayn did bite her lip and look down in her lap. Byleth knew it was not an easy request and hoped the squeeze to Flayn’s hand conveyed this. The girl returned the gesture before looking up and beginning to speak, if slowly. “I don’t remember much… a man in uniform took me aside when I had stepped out for a moment, saying my brother needed to speak with me urgently. I had been looking for him to ask if we were prepared to go home for the night, or if there were more duties as a host and hostess that we needed to provide. I thought perhaps something urgent had come up and this man was a messenger sent by my brother. But then there was a gloved hand with a rag and everything went dark… The next thing I knew, I was here. I have no memory of even being in the cellar that has been described to me as where I was found. Only the sensation of being cold and on a hard surface.”

Even though she was facing away from him - Byleth could see it all on Flayn’s face when her gaze moved up. It flicked in the direction Byleth knew the girl’s brother to be standing. And the twinge in her expression… it was in pain for him rather than herself. She tried to cover it over with harried assurances. “Aside from slight fatigue I feel perfectly fine though!”

“And we are so glad for that.” Mercedes too understood the anxiety that swept over Flayn. She patted at Flayn’s arm, trying to ease the girl.

“You may visit with your friends and rescuers more at another time, Flayn,” Mr. Seteth advanced to the foot of her bed. “But for now you should rest, and they should get out of their wet clothes to do the same.”

“Oh, but there is one more thing!” Flayn shook her head and exclaimed. “I would like to learn from Miss Byleth.”

“I’m sorry?” Said Byleth.

“What?” From Mr. Seteth at the same moment.

Despite Byleth’s equal query at the idea it was Seteth that Flayn looked towards. It was he that she felt needed the most convincing. “Of how to read my surroundings. I am certain that had I known better, been more aware, I would have noticed something was off about that man and not followed him so easily. Again and again Miss Byleth has shown that she has an understanding about people and situations that I lack. I would like for her to tutor me in this ability.”

“I do not know if it is something that can be taught…”

“Oh Byleth, do not be modest. Should you just learn to explain yourself more to others than you did at points this time,” Mercedes said, taking on that amused and knowing mother hum of hers, “you would make a great tutor.”

A flinch at this accusation although Byleth knew it to be true. She was not so used to having… companions alongside her when she was attempting to solve a problem. What need did she usually have to walk another through her reasoning, except perhaps at the end if it was asked of her? This ‘ability’ as Flayn put it had always made her an odd creature in the eyes of others like her. Someone more worthy of scorn or indifference than the position of ‘tutor.’

Three pairs of eyes turned to look at Mr. Seteth standing at the end of the bed on which Flayn lay. The man looked first at Mercedes, then Byleth, and then his sister where his gaze remained. Even with his infinite gratitude to them for finding Flayn he did not jump at the notion of his sister necessarily learning anything like what had made it possible. And yet he was torn, perhaps both by the imploring look from Flayn and what logic could be found in her plea.

Following a bit more silence he let out a long sigh. It may have very well been the most tired one yet - which Byleth did find funny. “Very well. The particulars can be decided later, but… I will allow this. Now may we all please get some sleep?”

The poor man was likely going to sleep for days he had been so distraught. And yet something about his words made the now three friends look at one another - and then break out laughing. Rengeld even came in wanting to know what was so funny.

“I am sorry about your parasol,” Mercedes sympathized later as they began to walk to the front gate of the monastery grounds. Byleth straightened from lengthening her underskirt down to its full length to inspect the sodden lace thing hooked over her elbow.

“I have more at home for different looks,” Byleth shrugged.

“Do they all-?”

“Have the false handle and hollow pole for my blade?” Byleth smiled. “The majority of them, yes.”

The road in sight, Byleth remembered something. She stepped aside from the middle of the walk and gently tugged at Mercedes’ elbow to stop her as well. “What were the consequences your butler spoke of, before we left?”

Mercedes would not meet her eyes. While she clearly had been expecting them to come back to the topic, it did not make it any easier. “Father was not pleased at how long we were out exploring here yesterday, especially when we were only supposed to be meeting for tea. And when I explained that we were hoping to find clues about Miss Flayn’s whereabouts… well, it did the opposite of what I hoped, which was make him believe it was a good cause… instead he said I was not to meet you again. Not unless it is at an actual social event.”

Byleth felt herself go completely still. “And if you did not listen, like when you left to come here-“

“Then he would become far more strict with me,” Mercedes nodded. Byleth was correct. “And disallow me from attending any parties which you would be attending.”

Gaze moving across her face, Byleth looked for any regret in Mercedes’ eyes. “Yet you still came with me.”

There was not an ounce of remorse to be found. “Of course I did!” The blonde squeezed her friend’s arms. “I could not imagine letting you do this alone. You already put it off by checking on my own safety.”

A deep breath, closing her eyes in the action to pull from within. When she opened them again - Mercedes was the picture of cool determination. “I will speak to father. After all of this… there is too much I want to do that is not the search for a proper husband. My wishes are important. And if father does not understand that and casts me out-“

“Then you will have a home with me.” After running in the rain and facing down a dark masked figure Byleth hoped the hand she held to Mercedes’ cheek was warm. She hoped the face of hers that was always so devoid of clear emotion showed even a small portion of what she felt. “Come and live with me, Mercedes. You may join the church, volunteer your time, anything and everything you want. I will support whatever you decide - I am certain my father will not mind. You heard yourself he did very similarly himself with a young Detective Rengeld. Just… so long as I may keep my first true friend in my life.”

There was a hitch to her voice that she could begin to feel. But Byleth pushed on regardless of it. “I will accompany you to speak with your father, should that be what you desire. I am sure Detective Rengeld would not mind being present for you to collect your things. I offer as much of my assistance as you will allow me to give - for these are all your decisions that I do not wish to take from you.”

Mercedes eyes shined with yet unshed tears. They spilled over and down her cheeks with the force of her beautiful, gentle laughter as she pressed her forehead against Byleth’s own. “I do believe I will have to stay around for a while and help this new tutoring detective enterprise of yours, my dearest friend.”

_ Epilogue _

The butler to the Eisner household, Mr. Lindel, had a background in boxing as it turned out. He was more than happy to stand menacingly nearby whilst Mercedes retrieved her personal items from the Ferguson house. There was little reason to be of more assistance, as had been the assumption, because Mercedes felt content with only a single suitcase and one carpet bag of things. “He may sell whatever is leftover, I do not mind,” she had smiled.

Had her father expected something like this to happen, Byleth thought, when he purchased a house larger than was required? Or perhaps something of the like, anyway. Whatever the case Byleth was content to look about the room they had set up for dear Miss Mercedes. A small writing desk was sent by Flayn so that she may write to her mother still in the country.

As she surveyed the room Byleth sat on the bed, pleased by the give of the mattress beneath her weight. Hopefully it was comfortable for her friend. She was soon joined by that very Miss Mercedes. “What are you doing up here? Mrs. Foster says tea is ready. She is in a very good mood after you brought her that cake.” And yet there was little urgency in Mercedes voice nor her actions by the way she sat beside Byleth on her new bed.

“I was only seeing how the desk from Flayn fit in here,” Byleth replied. She turned to Mercedes. “It looks nice. Flayn could not have picked a better size or style for this room.”

‘It was very kind of her,” Mercedes nodded. “Did you not also receive a gift?”

Byleth smiled, retrieving the slip of paper and item from the pocket of her skirt. She handed the letter over for Mercedes to read.

‘ _ Dear Miss Eisner, _

_ I hope this should prove useful to you in what schemes of yours there are to come. _

_ Forever grateful, _

_ Seteth Nabatean’ _

When she finished Mercedes peered down at the perfectly sized magnifying glass in Byleth’s hand. It was small enough to slip inside a reticule or a large enough pocket, the design of the handle simple yet elegant. Holding the glass up to her eye she found it to be quite clear. “It is not an apology for being so angry at you before, not in so many words, but in action I suppose.” She smiled.

Suddenly drowsy amongst the warmth of the afternoon sun and her friend’s presence, Byleth rested her head on Mercedes shoulder. A pleased hum escaped her lips when Mercedes gently stroked her hair. Byleth closed her eyes. “Never change, Mercedes.”

The snort Mercedes gave at that moment was not quite lady-like - but it was so real and so very her that Byleth knew neither of them would ever care. Mercedes reached a soft hand to turn Byleth’s face so she may look into her eyes. And then plant the gentlest of kisses on her lips. “We shall see, Detective Eisner.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are much appreciated! :D
> 
> Find me at https://twitter.com/acetheblondtest so we can be friends


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